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Flexible cloth. 25 cents. SPURGEON'S GEMS. Bemg brilliant passages from the Sermons of the Rev. C. H. Spuegeon, of London. 1 voL, 12mo. $1 00. SMOOTH STONES FROM ANCIENT BROOKS. By Rev. C. H. Spuegeon. 1 vol., 18mo. In press. ^ SERMONS PREACHED AND REYISED BY THB KM. C. H. SPURaEON, liftfe ^tXXtB. NEW YORK: SHELDON AND COMPANY. BOSTON: GOULD & LINCOLN. CHICAQO : S. C. GRIGGS & CO. 1869. ■z ^"Z By special arrangement Sheldon & Company will publish the Sermons of the Ret. C. H. SpuRaEON, and it is the author^s wish that no parties shall infringe this contract. BERNARD MOSES BTEEEOTYPED BY * FEINTED BY T. B, Smith & Son, Pudnet & RussBiiL, 82 «Sc 84 Beekman-st 79 John-street 5^ TO THE ONE GOD OF HEAVEN AND EARTH, IN THE TRINITY OF HIS SACRED PERSONS, BE ALL HONOR AND GLORY, WITH( AMEN. TO THE GLORIOUS FATHER, AS THE COVENANT GOD OF ISRAEL; TO THE GRACIOUS SON, THE REDEEMER OF HIS PEOPLE ; )LY GHOST, THE A SANCTIFICATION ; BE EVERLASTING PRAISE FOR THAT GOSPEL OF THE HEREIN PROCLAIMED UNTO MEN. 885970 PREFACE I f:^l that the readers of my sermons are my friends. Many, doubtless, read to cavil, to criticise, and to con- demn ; but a vast number have charity enough to overlook the faults, grace enough to profit by the truths, and kindness enough to allow me a place in their hearts. Innumerable are the loving epistles which I have re- ceived from those to whom these sermons have been blessed. From all denominations of Christian men have I received cheering words of sympathy and affection. I can appreciate the high Christian feeling which has con- strained my brethren to bear with all the things in which we can not agree, and cordially to accept me as a brother beloved, because of those glorious truths in which we alike rejoice. I would, therefore, in this preface salute all the brethren, desiring that grace, mercy, and peace may be multiplied unto them from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. May our prayers be heard for each other, when we earnestly pray the Father of mer- cies to fill us all with the Spirit of his Son, that we may be conformed unto his image in all things, and at last may appear with him in glory. And now what can I say fresh by way of preface to this volume? Assuredly I am shut up to one subject, and that involves a repetition of the song of former V113 PEEFACE. years. I must sing of judgment and mercy, and at the risk of incurring the charge of egotism, I will here record my praise. Personally I have experienced a twofold and memor- able deliverance; once by an escape from a terrible ac- cident ; and yet again, by a happy recovery from most trying and painful sickness. May my life be henceforth doubly devoted unto the service of the Lord ! In the ministry^ too, the Lord hath been very gracious. The people have never failed to gather in immense mul- titudes, nor have the brethren ceased to wrestle in prayer that the Word may be prospered. But my special crown of rejoicing lies in the success which a condescending Master has given to one who feels far more than ever his utter and entire unworthiness of such a favor, for these sermons have upon them the stamp of the Lord's right hand, seeing that he has employed them for convic- tion, conversion, and edification. I value a sermon, not by the approbation of men, or the ability manifest in it, but by the effect produced in comforting the saint, and awakening the sinner. Is not this, after all, the practical way of estimating all that is spoken or written ? A fresh source of consolation has been opened to me from the information I receive of the good attending the public reading of these printed preachings. In lonely places there are Churches of Christ whose only ministry is found in these pages, save when a passing evangelist is led to open his mouth among them. In rooms in the crowded haunts of poverty, these are read to hundreds who could scarcely understand any language more refined; while at races, and fairs, and even at pilgrimages of the Eomish PREFACE. IX churcli, these have been used by earnest brethren as a means of obtaining an audience in the open air. In America, more than one hundred and fifty thousand volumes have been sold; in Australia, two local editions have appeared, besides those which have been exported by the London publishers. A Welsh edition has been issued monthly, and several of the sermons have been translated into Dutch, German, and French, while the English circulation remains undiminished. But what of all this, unless the Spirit of the Lord shall apply the Word with power? In vain true doctrine and faithful warning, without his divine influence. Brethren, pray for us I that the Word may be more and more a "savor of life unto life" in the souls of those who shall peruse these pages. There is one theme of rejoicing to which I am con- strained to allude. The importance of the pulpit is evi- dently beginning to be recognized. I greatly I'ejoice in the opening of St. Paul's Cathedral, and other large buildings for the ministry of the Word. May the zeal of the churches increase, and may the preaching be the proc- lamation of the truth as it is in JesVjS. Sound doctrine is as essential now as in the days of the Eeformation. We must not congratulate ourselves on the mere assemblage of crowds, but we must see to it that the gospel is preached, not mere moral maxims and ceremonial observances. With love to all the people of God, I am, The servant of Christ and his Church, C. H. SPURGEOK Apbil, 1859. 1* CONTENTS. ^♦■»- SERMON I. PAQH Hifl Name — ^Wondebful 16 SERMON n. His Name — the Counselob 31 SERMON III. " As THY Days, bo shall thy Strength be" 49 SERMON IV. The Voice of the Blood of Christ % 65 SERMON V. The New Heart 81 SERMON VI. The Fatherhood of Qod 97 SERMON Vn. Eykbybody'b Sermon 112 XU CONTENTS. SERMON YIII. PAGE A Lecture tor Little-Faith 129 SERMON IX. Confession and Absolution 14'? SERMON X. Declension from First Loye 164 SERMON XI. God's Barriers against Man's Sin 180 SERMON XII. Comfort Proclaimed 19t SERMON XIII. The Christian's Heaviness and Rejoicing 211 SERMON XIY. Evil and its Remedy. 222 SERMON XY. Samson Conquered 23G CONTENTS. XUl SERMON XVI. PAOB LooKixG UNTO Jesus 253 SERMON XVn. Satan's Banquet .' 270 SERMON XYin. The Feast of the Lord 289 SERMON XIX. The Blood 303 SERMON XX. Love 319 SERMON XXI. The Great Revival 336 SERMON XXn. The Form and Spirit op Religion 353 SERMON XXin. Proyidbnoe 370 XIV CONTENTS SERMON XXIV. PAOK The Yanguard and Reretvaed of the Church 38T SERMON XXV. The World Turned Upside Down 402 SERMON XXVI. Human Responsibility 420 SERMON XXVII. Faith in Perfection 437 •SERMON I. HIS NAME — WONDERFUL. "His name shall be called. "WonderM" — ^Isaiah, ix. 6. One evening last week I stood by the sea-shore when the storm was raging. The voi«e of the Lord was upon the wat- ers ; and who was I that I should tarry within doors, when my Master's voice was heard sounding along the water ? I rose and stood to behold the flash of his lightnings, and listen to the glory of his thunders. The sea and the thunders were contesting with one another; the sea with infinite clamor striving to hush the deep-throated thunder, so that his voice should not be heard; yet over and above the roar of the billows might be heard that voice of God, as he spake with flames of fire, and divided the way for the waters. It was a dark night, and the sky was covered with thick clouds, and scarce a star could be seen through the rifts of the tempest ; but at one particular time, I noticed far away on the horizon, as if miles across the water, a bright shining, like gold. It was the moon hidden behind the clouds, so that she could not shine upon us ; but she was able to send her rays down upon the waters, far away, where no cloud happened to intervene. I thought, as I read this chapto*" last evening, that the prophet seemed to have stood in a like position, when he wrote the words of my text. All round about him were clouds of dark- ness ; he heard prophetic thunders roaring, and he saw flashes of the lightnings of divine vengeance ; clouds and darkness, for many a league, were scattered through history ; but he saw far away a bright spot — one place where the clear shining came down from heaven. And he sat down, and he penned these words : " The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light : they that dwell in the land of the shadow of 16 HIS.NAME — WpNi)ifi4J.F\JL, death, upon them hi'.tK t.hfi.Ii^ht sliiaed :" and though he looked through whole leagues of space^ where iie ba'ir the battle of the warrior " with confused noise and garments rolled in blood," yet he fixed his eye upon one bright spot in futurity, and he declared, that there he saw hope of pe^ce, prosperity and blessedness ; for said he, " Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given : and the government shall be upon his shoulder : and his name shall be called Wonderful." My dear friends, we live to-day upon the verge of that bright spot. The world has been passing through these clouds of darkness, and the light is gleaming on us now, like the glintings of the first rays of morijing. We are coming to a brighter day, and " at evening time it shall be light." The clouds and darkness shall be rolled up as a mantle that God needs no longer, and he shall appear in his glory, and his peo- ple shall rejoice with him. But you must mark, that all the brightness was the result of this child born, this son given, whose name is called Wonderful ; and if we can discern any brightness in our own hearts, or in the world's history, it can come from nowhere else, than from the one who is called " Wonderful, Counselor, the mighty God." The person spoken of in our text, is undoubtedly the Lord Jesus Christ. He is a child born, with reference to his hu- man nature ; he is born of the Virgin, a child. But he is a son given, with reference to his divine nature, being given as well as born. Of course, the Godhead could not be born of woman. That was from everlasting, and is to everlasting. As a child he was born, as a son he was given. " The gov- ernment is upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful." Beloved, there are a thousand things in this world, that are called by names that do not belong to them ; but in entering upon my text, I must announce at the very opening, that Christ is called Wonderful because he is so. God the Father never gave his Son a name which he did not deserve. There is no panegyric here, no flattery. It is just the simple name that he deserves ; they that know him best will say that the word doth not overstrain his merits, but rather falleth infinitely short of his glorious deserving. Hia HIS NAME — WONDERFUL. 17 name is called Wonderful. And mark, it does not merely say, that God has given him the name of Wonderful — though that is implied ; but " his name shall be called'^'' so. It shall be ; it is at this time called Wonderful by all his believing people, and it shall be. As long as the moon endureth, there shall be found men, and angels, and glorified spirits, who shall always call him by his right name. " His name shall be called Wonderful." I find that this name may bear two or three interpretations. The word is sometimes in Scripture translated " marvelous." Jesus Christ may be called marvelous; and a learned Ger- man interpreter says, that without doubt, the meaning of miraculous is also wrapped up in it. Christ is the marvel of marvels, the miracle of miracles. " His name shall be called Miraculous^'' for he is more than a man, he is God's highest miracle. *' Great is the mystery of godliness ; God Avas man- ifest in the flesh." It may also mean separated or distin- guished. And Jesus Christ may well be called this ; for as Saul was distinguished from all men, being head and shoulders taller than they, so is Christ distinguished above all men ; he is anointed with the oil of gladness above his fellows, and in his character, and in his acts, he is infinitely separated from all comparison with any of the sons of men. " Thou art fairer than the children of men ; grace is poured into thy lips." He is "the chief among ten thousand and altogether lovely." "His name shall be called the Separated One^'' the distin- guished one, the noble one, set apart from the common race of mankind. Wo shall, however, this morning, keep to the old version, and simply read it thus, " His name shall be called Wonder- ful." And first I shall notice that Jesus Christ deserveth to be called Wonderful for what he was in the past ; secondly, that he is called Wondorful by all his people for what lie is in tlie present ; and in the thiid place^ that he shall be called Wonderful, /o7* what he shall he in the future, I. First, Christ shall be called Wonderful for what he was IN THE past. Gather up your thoughts, my brethren, for a moment, and center them all on Christ, and you will soon see 10 HIS NAME — WONDERFUL. how wonderful he is. Consider his eternal existence, " begot- ten of his Father from before all worlds," being of the same substance with his Father : begotten, not made, co-equal, co- eternal, in every attribute " very God of very God." For a moment remember that he who became an infant of a span long, was no less than the King of ages, the everlasting Fath- er, who was from eternity, and is to be to all etei'nity. The divine nature of Christ is indeed wonderful. Just think for a, moment, how much interest clusters round the hfe of an old man. Those of us who are but as children in years, look vip to him with wonder and astonishment, as he tells us the va- ried stories of the experience through which he has passed. But what is the life of an aged man ? How brief it appears when compared with the life of the tree that shelters him. It existed long before that old man's father crept, a helpless infant, into the world. How many storms have swept over its brow ! how many kings have come and gone ! how many em- pires have risen and fallen since that old oak was slumbering in its acorn cradle ! But what is the life of the tree compared with the soil on which it grows ? What a wonderful story that soil might tell! What changes it has passed through in all the eras of time that have elapsed since, " in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth." There is a wonderful story connected with every atom of black mold which furnishes the nourishment of the oak. But what is the history of that soil compared with the marvelous history of the rock on which it rests — the chff on which it lifts its head ? Oh! what stories might it tell, what records lie hidden in its bow^els. Perhaps it could tell the story of the time when " the earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the earth." Perhaps it might speak and tell us of those days when the morning and the evening were the first day, and ike morning and the even- ing were the second day, and could explain -to us the myster- ies of how God made this marvelous piece of miracle — the world. But what is the history of the cliff compared with that of the sea that rolls at its base — that deep blue ocean, over which a thousand navies have swept, without leaving a HIS NAME — TVONDEBFTJL. 19 furrow upon its brow ? But what is the history of the sea compared with the history of the heavens that are stretched like a curtain over that vast basin ? What a history is that of the hosts of heaven — of the everlasting marches of the sun, moon, and stars ! Who can tell their generation, or who can write their biography ? But what is the history of the heavens compared with the history of the angels ? They could tell you of the day when they saw this world wrapj^ed in swad- dling bands of mist — when, like a new-born infant, the last of God's offspring, it came forth from him, and the morning stars sang together, and the sons of God shouted for joy. But what is the history of the angels that excel in strength, com- pared with the history of the Lord Jesus Christ ? The angel is but of yesterday, and he knoweth nothing ; Christ, the eternal One, chargeth even his angels with folly, and looks upon them as his ministering spirits, that come and go at his good pleasure. Oh, Christians, gather with reverence and mysterious awe around the throne of him who is your great Redeemer ; for " his name is called Wonderful," since he has existed before aU things, and "by, him all things were made; and without him was not any thing, made that was made." Consider, again, the incarnation of Christ, and you will rightly say that his name deserveth to be called " Wonderful." Oh ! what is that I see ? Oh ! world of wonders, what is that I see ? The Eternal of ages, whose hair is white like wool, a§ white as snow, becomes an infant. Can it be ? Ye angela, are ye not astonished ? He becomes an infant, hangs at a vii> gin's breast, draws his nourishment from the breast of woman. Oh wonder of wonders ! Manger of Bethlehem, thou hast miracles poured into thee ! This is a sight that surpasses all others. Talk ye of the sun, moon, and stars; consider ye the heavens, the work of God's fingers, the moon and the stars that he hath ordained ; but all the wonders of the universe shrink into nothing when we come to the mystery of the in- carnation of the Lord Jesus Christ. It was a marvelous thing when Joshua bade the sun to stand still, but more mar- velous when God seemed to stand still, an«l no longer to movo 20 HIS NAME AVOISDEEFUL. forward, but rather, like the sun upon the dial of Ahaz, did go back ten degrees^ and vail his splendor in a cloud. There have been sights matchless and wonderful, at which we might look for years, and yet turn away and say, " I can not under- stand this ; here is a deep into which I dare not dive ; my thoughts are drowned ; this is a steep without a summit ; I can not climb it ; it is high, I can not attain it !" But all these things are as nothing, compared with the incarnation of the Son of God. I do believe that the very angels have never wondered but once, and that has been incessantly ever since they first beheld it. They never cease to tell the astonisliing story, and to tell it with increasing astonishment too, that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, was born of the Virgin Mary, and became a man. Is he not rightly called Wonderful ? In- finite, and an infant — eternal, and yet born of a woman — Al- mighty, and yet hanging on a woman's breast — supporting the universe, and yet needing to be carried in a mother's arms — King of angels, and yet the reputed son of Joseph — heir of all things, and yet the carpenter's despised son. Wonderful art thou, O Jesus, and that shall be thy name for ever. But trace the Saviour's course, and all the w^ay he is won- derful. Is it not marvelous that he submitted to the taunts and jeers of his enemies — that for a long life he should allow the bulls of Bashan to gird him round, and the dogs to en- compass him ? Is it not surprising that he should have bridled his anger, when blasphemy was uttered against his sacied per- son ? Had you or I been possessed of his matchless might, we should have dashed our enemies down the brow of the hill, if they had sought to cast us there ; we should never have submitted to shame and spitting ; no, we would have looked upon them, and with one fierce look of wrath, have dashed their spirits into eternal torment. But he bears it all — keeps in his noble spirit — the lion of the tribe of Judah, but bearing stiU the lamb -like character of " The humble man before his foes, A weary man, and full of woes." I do believe that Jesus of Nazareth was the King of heaven, HIS NAME — WONDERFUL. 21 and yet he was a poor, despised, persecuted, slandered man ; but while I believe it I never can understand it. I bless him for it ; I love him for it ; I desire to praise his name while im- tnortality endures for his infinite condescension in thus suffer- ing for me ; but to understand it, I can never pretend. His name must all his life long be called Wonderful. But see him die. Come, O my brothers, ye children of God, and gather round the cross. See your Master. There he hangs. Can you understand this riddle : God was manifest in the flesh, and crucified of men ? My Master, I can not under- stand how thou couldst stoop thine awful head to such a death as this — how thou couldst take from thy brow the coronet of stars which from old eternity had shone resplendent there ; but how thou shouldst permit the thorn-crown to gird thy temples astonishes me far more. That thou shouldst cast away the mantle of thy glory, the azure of thy everlasting empire, I can not comprehend ; but how thou shouldst have become vailed in the ignominious purple for awhile, and then be bowed to by impious men, who mocked thee as a pretended king, and how thou shouldst be stripped naked to thy shame, without a single covering, this is still more incomprehensible. Truly thy name is Wonderful. Oh thy love to me is wonder- ful, passing the love of woman. Was ever grief like thine ? Was ever love like thine, that could open the flood-gates of such grief. Thy grief is like a river ; but was there ever spring that poured out such a torrent ? Was ever love so mighty as to become the fount from which such an ocean of grief could come rolling down ? Here is matchless love — matchless love to make him suffer, matchless power to enable him to endure all the weight of his Father's wrath. Here is matchless justice, that he himself should acquiesce in his Father's will, and not allow men to be saved without his own sufferings ; and here is matchless mercy to the chief of sin- ners, that Christ should suffer even for them. "His name shall be called Wonderful." But he died. He died! See Salem's daughters weep around. Joseph of Arimathea takes up the lifeless body after it has been taken down from the cross. They bear it away to 22 HIS NAME — WONDERFUL. the sepulcher. It is put in a garden. Do you call him Won- derful now ? " Is this the Saviour long foretold To usher in the age of gold ?" And is he dead ? Lift his hands ! They drop motionless by his side. His foot exhibits still the nail-print ; but there is no mark of life. *^ Aha," cries the Jew, " is this the Messiah ? He is dead ; he shall see corruption in a little space of time. Oh ! watchman, keep good ward lest his disciples steal his body. His body can never come forth, unless they do steal it ; for he is dead. Is this the Wonderful, the Counselor ?" But God did not leave his soul in Hades, nor did he suffer his body — " his holy one " — to see corruption ? Yes, he is won- derful, even iii his death. That clay-cold corpse is wonderful. Perhaps this is the greatest wonder of all, that he who is " Death of death and hell's destruction " should for awhile endure the bonds of death. But here is the wonder. He could not be holden of those bonds. Those chains, which have held ten thousand of the sons and daughters of Adam, and which have never been broken yet by any man of human mold, save by a miracle, were but to him as green withes. Death bound our Samson fast, and said, " I have him now ; I have taken away the locks of his strength ; his glory is de- parted, and now he is mine." But the bands that kept the human race in chains were nothing to the Saviour ; the third day he burst them, and he rose again from the dead, from henceforth to llie no more. Oh ! thou risen Saviour — thou who couldst not see corruption — thou art wonderful in thy res- urrection. And thou art wonderful too in thine ascension, as I see thee leading captivity captive and receiving gifts for men. " His name shall be called Wonderful." Pause here one moment, and let us think — Christ is surpass- ingly wonderful. The little story I have told you just now — not little in itself, but Kttle as I have told it — has in it some- thing surpassingly wonderful. All the wonders that you ever saw are nothing compared with this. As we have passed through various countries we have seen a wonder, and some older traveler than ourselves has said, " Yes, this is wonderful HTS NAME — WONDERFUL. 23 to you, but T could show you something that utterly eclipses that." Though we have seen some splendid landscapes, with glorious hills, and we have climbed up where the eagle seemed to knit the mountain and the sky together in his flight, and we have stood and looked down, and said, "How wonderful!" saith he, " I have seen fairer lauds than these, and wider and richer prospects far." But when we speak of Christ, none can say they ever saw a greater wonder than he is. You have come now to the very summit of every thing that may be wondered at. There are no mysteries equal to this mystery ; there is no surprise equal to this surprise ; there is no aston- ishment, no admiration that should equal the astonishment and admiration that we feel when we behold Christ in the glories of the past. He surpasses every thing. And yet again. Wonder is a short-lived emotion ; you know, it is proverbial that a wonder grows gray-headed in nine days. The longest period that a wonder is known to live is about that time. It is such a short-lived thing. But Christ is, and ever shall be wonderful. You may think of him through threescore years and ten, but you shall wonder at him more at the end than at the beginning. Abraham might wonder at him, when he saw his day in the distant future ; but I do not think that even Abraham himself could wonder at Christ so much as the very least in the kingdom of heaven of to-day wonders at him, seeing that we know more than Abraham, and therefore wonder more. Think again for one moment, and you will say of Christ that he deserves to be called Wonderful, not only because he is always wonderful, and because he is surpassingly wonderful, but also because he is altogether wonderful. There have been some great feats of skill in the arts and sciences ; for instance, if we take a common wonder of the day, the telegraph — how much there is about that which is wonderful ! But there are a great many things in the telegraph that we can understand. Though there are many mysteries in it, still there are parts of it that are like keys to the mysteries, so that if we can not solve the riddle wholly, yet it is disrobed of some of the low garments of its mystery. But now if you look at Christ any how, any where, any way, he is all mys- 24 HIS NAME — WONDERFUL. tery ; he is altogether wonderful, always to be looked at and always to be admired. And again, he is universally wondered at. They tell us that the religion of Christ is very good for old women. I was once complimented by a person, who told me he believed my preaching would be extremely suitable for blacks — for negroes. He did not intend it as a compliment, but I replied, " Well, sir, if it was suitable for blacks, I should think it would be very suitable for whites ; for there is only a little diiference of skin, and I do not preach to people's skins, but to their hearts." Now, of Christ we can say, that he is universally a wonder ; the strongest intellects have wondered at him. Our Lookes and our Newtons have felt themselves to be as little children when they have come to the foot of the cross. The wonder has not been confined to ladies, to children, to old women and dying men ; the highest intellects, and the loftiest minds have all wondered at Christ. I am sure it is a difficult task to make some people wonder. Hard thinkers and close mathematicians are not easily brought to wonder ; but such men have covered their faces with their hands and cast them- selves in the dust, Snd confessed that they have been lost in wonder and amazement. Well then may Christ be called Wonderful. H. " His name shall be called Wonderful." He is wonderful for WHAT HE IS IN THE PRESEifT. And here I will not diverge, but will just appeal to you personally. Is he wonderful to yoxi, f Let me tell the story of my own wonderment at Christ, and in telling it, I shall be telling the experience of all God's chil- dren. There was a time when I wondered not at Christ. I heard of his beauties, but I had never seen them ; I heard of his power, but it was nought to me ; it was but news of some- thing done in a far country — I had no connection with it, and therefore I observed it not. But once upon a time, there came one to my house of a black and terrible aspect. He smote the door ; I tried to bolt it, to hold it fast. He smote again and again, till at last he entered, and with a rough voice he summoned me before him ; and he said, " I have a message from God for thee ; thou art condemned on account of thy HIS NAME WONDEBFUL. 25 sins." I looked at him with astonishment ; I asked him his name. He said, " My name is the Law ;" and I fell at his feet as one that was dead. " I was alive without the law once ; but when the commandment came, sin revived, and I died." As I lay there, he smote me. He smote me till every rib seemed as if it must break, and the bowels be poured forth. My heart was melted like wax within me ; I seemed to be stretched upon a rack — to be pinched with hot irons — to be beaten mth whips of burning wire. A misery extreme dwelt and reigned in my heart. I dared not Hft up mine eyes, but I thought within myself, "There may be hope, there may be mercy for me. Perhaps the God whom I have offended may accept my tears, and my promises of amendment, and I may live." But when that thought crossed me, heavier were the blows and more poignant my sufferings than before, till hope entirely failed me, and I had nought wherein to trust. Dark- ness black and dense gathered around me ; I heard a voice as it were, of rushing to and fro, and of waiUng and gnashing of teeth. I said within ray soul,' " I am cast out from his sight, I am utterly abhorred of God ; he hath trampled me in the mire of the streets in his anger." And there came one by of sorrowful but of loving aspect, and he stooped over me, and be said, " Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light." I arose in astonishment, and he took me, and he led me to a place where stood a cross, and he seemed to vanish from my sight. But he appeared again hanging there. I looked upon him as he bled upon that tree. His eyes darted a glance of love unutterable into my spirit, and in a moment, looking at him, the bruises that my soul had suffered were healed ; the gaping wounds were cured ; the broken bones rejoiced ; the rags that had covered me were all removed ; ray spirit was white as the spotless snows of the fiir off North ; I had melody within my spirit, for I was saved, washed, cleansed, forgiven, through him tliat did bang upon the tree. Oh, how I wondered that I should be pardoned I It was not the pardon that I wondered at so much ; the wonder was that it should come to me. I won- dered that he should be able to pardon such sins as mine, such 26 HIS NAME — WONDEEPFL. crimes, so numerous and so black, and that after such an ac- cusing conscience he should have power to still every wave within my spirit, and make my soul like the surface of a river, undisturbed, quiet, and at ease. His name then to my spirit was Wonderful. But, brethren and sisters, if you have felt this, you can say you thought him wonderful then — if you are feeling it, a sense of adoring wonder enraptures your heart even now. And has he not been wonderful to you since that auspicious hour when first you heard Mercy's voice spoken to you? How often have you been in sadness, sickness, and sorrow ! But your pain has been light, for Jesus Christ has been w^th you on your sick-beds ; your care has been no care at all, for you have been able to cast your burden upon him. The trial which threatened to crush you, rather lifted you up to heaven, and you have said, " How wonderful that Jesus Christ's name should give me such comfort, such 'joy, such peace, such confi- dence." Various things bring to my recollection a period now removed by the space of nearly two years. Never shall we forget, beloved, the judgments of the Lord, when by terrible things in righteousness he answered our prayer that he would give us success in this house. We can not forget how the peo- ple were scattered — how some of the sheep were slain, and the shepherd himself was smitten. I may not have told in your hearing the story of my own woe. Perhaps never soul went so near the burning furnace of insanity, and yet came away un- harmed. I have Avalked by that fire until these locks seemed to be crisp with the heat thereof. My brain was racked. I dared not look up to God, and prayer that was once my solace, was the cause of my aifright and terror, if I attempted it. I shall never forget the time when I first became restored to myself. It was in the garden of a friend. I was walking solitary and alone, musing upon ray misery, much cheered as that was by the kindness of my loving friend, yet far too heavy for my soul to bear, when on a sudden the name of Jesus flashed through my mind. The person of Christ seemed visible to me. I stood still. The burning lava of my soul was cooled. My agonies were hushed. I bowed myself there, and the garden HIS KAME — ^WO^NDEErUL. 27 that had seemed a Gethsemane becarae to rae a Paradise. And then it seemed so strange to me thut nought should have brought me back but that name of Jesus. I thouglit indeed at that time that I should love him better all the days of my life. But there were two things I wondered at. I wondered that he should be so good to me, and I wondered more that I should have been so ungrateful to him. But his name has been from that time " Wonderful" to me, and I must record what he has done for my soul. And now, brothers and sisters, you shall all find, every day of your life, whatever your trials and troubles, that he shall always be made the more wonderful by them. He sends your troubles to be like a black foil, to make the diamond of his name, shine the brighter. You would never know the won- ders of God if it were not that you find them out in the fur- nace. " They that go down to the sea in ship^ that do busi- ness in great waters, these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep ;" and we shall never see the wonders of God except in that deep; we must go into the deeps before we know how wonderful are his power and his might to save. I must not leave this point without one more remark. There have been times when you and I have said of Christ, " His name is wonderful indeed, for we have been by it trans- ported entirely above the world, and carried upward to the very gates of heaven itself." I pity you, beloved, if you do not understand the rhapsody I am about to use. There are moments when the Christian feels the charms of earth all broken, and his wings are loosed, and he begins to fly ; and up he soars, till he forgets earth's sorrows and leaves them far behind ; and up he goes, till he forgets earth's joys, and leaves them like the mountain tops far below, as when the eagle flies to meet the sun ; and up, up, up he goes, with his Saviour full before him almost in vision beatific. His heart is full of Christ ; his soul beholds his Saviour, and the cloud that darkened his view of the Saviour's face seems to be dispersed. At such a time the Christian can sympathise with Paul. He says, "Whether in the body or out of the body I can not tell — God knoweth !" but I am, as it were, " caught up to the third hea^ 28 HIS NAME — WONDERFUL. ven." And how is this rapture produced ? By the music of flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, and all kinds of instruments ? No. How then? By riches? By fame ? By wealth ? Ah, no. By a strong mind ? By a lively disposition ? No. By the name of Jesus. That one name is all suiEcient to lead the Christian into heights of transport that verge upon the region where the angels fly in cloudless day. in. I have no more time to stay upon this point, although the text is infinite, and one might preach upon it for ever. I have only to notice that his name shall be called Wonderful EN" THE FUTURE. The day is come, the day of wrath, the day of fire. The ages are ended ; the last century, like the last pillar of a di- lapidated temple, has crumbled to its fall. The clock o^ time is verging to its last hour. It is on the stroke. The time is come when the things that are made must disappear. Lo, I see earth's bowels moving. A thousand hillocks give up the slumbering dead. The battle fields are clothed no more with the rich harvests that have been manured with blood ; but a new harvest has sprung up. The fields are thick with men. The sea itself becomes a prolific mother, and though she hath swallowed men alive, she gives them up again, and they stand before God, an exceeding great army. Sinners ! ye have liseu from your tombs ; the pillars of heaven are reeling ; the sky is moving to and fro ; the sun, the eye of this great world, is rolling like a maniac's, and glaring with dismay. The moon that long has cheered the night now makes the darkness ter- rible, for she is turned into a clot of blood. Portents, and signs, and wonders past imagination, make the heavens shake, and make men's hearts quail within them. Suddenly upon a cloud there comes one like unto the Son of Man. Sinners ! picture your astonishment and your wonder when you see him. Where art thou, Voltaire ? Thou saidst, " I will crush the wretch." Come and crush him now ! " Nay," saith Voltaire, "he is not the man I thought he was." Oh how will he won- der when he finds out what Christ is ! Now, Judas, come and give him a traitor's kiss ! " Ah ! nay," says he, " I knew not what I kissed ; I thought I kissed only the son of Mary, but HIS NAME — ^WONDERFUL. 29 lo ! he is the everlasting God." Now, ye kings and princes, that stood up and took counsel together against the Lord and against his anointed, saying, "Let us break his bands asunder, and cast his cords from us !" come now ; take counsel once more ; rebel against him now ! Oh ! can ye picture the astonishment, the wonder, the dismay, when careless, godless infidels and Socinians find out what Christ is ? " Oh !" they will say, " this is wonderful ; I thought not he was such as this ;" while Christ shall say to them, " Thou thoughtest that I was altogether such as yourselves ; but I am no such thhig ; I am come in all my Father's glory to judge the quick and dead." Pharaoh led his hosts into the midst of the Red Sea. The path was dry and shingly, and on either shore stood, like a wall of alabaster, the clear white water, stiff as with the breath of frost, consolidated into marble. There it stood. Can ye guess the astonishment and dismay of the hosts of Pharaoh when they saw those walls of water about to close upon them ? " Behold, ye despisers, and wonder, and perish !" Such will be- your astonishment when Christ, whom ye have despised to-day — Chi-ist, whom ye would not have to be your Saviour — Christ, whose Bible ye left unread, whose Sabbath ye de- spised — Christ, whose gospel ye rejected, shall come in the glory of his Father, and all his holy angels with him. Ay, then indeed will ye "behold, and wonder, and perish," and shall say, " His name is Wonderful." But perhaps the most wonderful part of the day of judg- ment is this : do you see all the horrors yonder — the black darkness, the horrid night, the clashing comets, the pale stars, sickly and wan, falling like figs from the fig-tree ? Do you hear the cry, " Rocks, hide us, mountains, on us fall ?" " Every battle of the warrior is with confused noise ;" but there never was a battle like this. This is with fire and smoke indeed. But do yc see yonder ? All is peaceful, all serene and quiet. The myriads of the redeemed, are they shrieking, crying, wailing ? No ; see them I They are gathering — gathering round the throne. That very throne that seems to scatter, as with a hundred hands, death and destruction on the wicked, 80 HIS NAME WONDERFUL. becomes the sun of light and happiness to all "believers. Do you see them coming, robed in white, with their bright wings, while gathering round him they vail their faces ? Do you hear them cry, *' Holy, holy, holy Lord God of hosts, for thou wast slain, and thou hast risen from the dead ; worthy ait thou to live and reign, when death itself is dead ?" Do ye hear them ? It is all song, and no shriek. Do ye see them ? It is all joy, and no terror. His name to them is Wonderful ; but it is the wonder of admiration, the wonder of ecstasy, the wonder of affection, and not the wonder of horror and dismay. Saints of the Lord ! ye shall know the wonders of his name, when ye shall see him as he is, and shall be like him in the day of his appearing. Oh ! my enraptured spirit, thou shalt bear thy part in thy Redeemer's triumph, unworthy though thou art, the chief of sinners, and less than the least of saints. Thine eye shall see him and not another ; " I know that my Re- deemer liveth, and when he shall stand in the latter day upon the earth, though worms devour this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God." Oh ! make yourselves ready, ye virgins I Behold the bridegroom cometh. Arise and trim your lamps, and go ye out to meet him. He comesr— he comes — ^he comes ! and when he comes, you shall well say of him, as you meet him with joy, " Thy name is called Wonderful. All haU ! all hail! all hail!" SERMON II. HIS NAME — THE COUNSELOR. " For unto na a child is born, unto us a son is given : and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called 'Wonderful, Coun- selor." — ISATAH, ix. 6. Last Sabbath morning we considered the first title, " His name shall be called Wonderful :" this morning we take the second word, " Counselor." I need not repeat the remark, that of course these titles belong only to the Lord Jesus Christ, and that we can not understand the passage except by referring it to Messiah — the Prince. It was by a Counselor that this world was ruined. Did not Satan mask himself in the serpent, and counsel the woman with exceeding craftiness, that she should take unto herself of the fi uit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, in the hope that tliereby she should be as God ? "Was it not that evil counsel which pro- voked our mother to rebel against her Maker, and did it not, as the effect of sin, bring death into this world with all its train of woe ? Ah ! beloved, it was meet that this world should have a Counselor to restore it, if it had a Counselor to destroy it. It was by counsel that it fell, and certainly without counsel it never could have arisen. But mark the difficulties that surrounded such a Counselor. 'Tis easy to counsel mischief; but how hard to counsel wisely ! To cast down is easy, but to build up, how hard ! To confuse this world, and bring upon it all its train of ills was an easy thing ; a woman plucked the fruit and it was done. But to restore order to this confusion, to sweep away the evils which brood- ed over this fair earth, this was work indeed, and '* Wonder- ful" was tliat Christ who came forward to attempt the work, and who in the plenitude of his wisdom hath certainly accom- 32 HIS NAME — THE COUNSELOR. plished it, to his own honor and glory, and to our comfort and safety. We shall now enter upon the discussion of this title which is given to Christ, a title peculiar to our Redeemer ; and you will see why it should be given to him, and why there was a necessity for such a Counselor. INi ow, our Lord Jesus Christ is a Counselor in a threefold sense. First, he is GocVs Counselor ; he sits in the cabinet council of the King of heaven ; he has admittance into the privy chamber, and is the Counselor with God. In the sec ond place, Christ is a Counselor in the sense which the Sep- tuagint translation appends to this term. Christ is said to be the angel of the great council. He is a Counselor in that he communicates to us, in God's behalf, what has been done in the great council before the foundation of the world. And thirdly, Christ is a Counselor to us and with us, because we can consult with him, and he doth counsel and advise us as to the right way and the path of peace. I. Beginning, then, with the first point, Christ may well be called Counselor, for he is a Counselor with God. And here let us speak with reverence, for we are about to enter upon a very solemn subject. It hath been revealed to us that before the world was, when as yet God had not made the stars, long ere space sprang into being, the Almighty God did hold a solemn conclave with himself; Father, Son and Spirit held a mystic council with each other, as to what they were about to do. That council, although we read but little of it in Scripture, was nevertheless most certainly held ; we have abundant traces of it, for though it is a doctrine obscure through the eifulgence of that light to which no man can ap- proach, and not simply and didactically explained, as some other doctrines are, yet we have continual tracings and inci- dental mentionings of that great, eternal, and wonderful coun- cil which was held between the three glorious persons of the Trinity before the world began. Our first question with our- selves is, why did God hold a council at all ? And here, we must answer, that God did not hold a council because of any deficiency in his knowledge, for God understandeth all things HIS NAME — THE COUNSELOR. 83 from the beginning ; his knowledge is the sum total of every- thing that is noble, and infinite is that sura total, infinitely above every thing that is counted noble by us. Thou, O God, hast thoughts that are unsearchable, and thou knowest what no mortal ken can ever attain unto. Nor, again, did God hold any consultation for the increase of his satisfaction. Sometimes men, when they have determined what to do, will nevertheless seek counsel of their friends, because they say, " If their advice agrees with mine it adds to my satisfaction, and confirms me in my resolution." But God is everlastingly satisfied with himself, and knoweth not the shadow of a doubt to cloud his purpose ; therefore, the council was not held with any motive or intent of that sort. Nor, again, was it held with a view of dehberation. Men take weeks and months and sometimes years, to think out a thing that is surrounded with difficulties ; they have to find the clue with much research ; enveloped in folds of mystery, they have to take off first one garment and then another, before they find out the naked, glo- rious truth. Not so God. God's deliberations are as flashes of lightning ; they are as wise as if he had been eternally con- sidering, but the thoughts of his heart, though swift as light- ning, are as perfect as the whole system of the universe. The reason why God is represented as holding a council, if I think rightly, is this : that we might understand how wise God is. " In the multitude of counselors there is wisdom." It is for us to think that in the council of the Eternal Three, each per- son in the undivided Trinity being omniscient and full of wis- dom, there must have been the sum total of all wisdom. And again, it was to show the unanimity and cooperation of the sacred persons : God the Father hath done nothing alone in creation or salvation. Jesus Christ hath done nothing alone ; for even the work of his redemption, albeit that he suffered in some sense alone, needed the sustaining hand of the Spirit, and the accepting smile of the Father, before it could be comjjlet- ed. God said not, " I will make man," but " let us make man in our own image." God saith not merely, " I will save," but the inference from the declaration of Scripture is, that the de- sign of the three persons of the blesso4 Trinity was to save a 2* 34 HIS NAME — THE COUNSELOE. people to themselves, who should show forth their praise. It was, then, for our sakes, not for God's sake, the council was held — that we might know the unanimity of the glorious per- sons, and the deep wisdom of their devices. Yet another remark concerning the council. It may be asked, " What were the topics deliberated upon at that first council, which was held before the day-star knew its place, and planets ran their round ?" We reply, " The first topic was creation." We are told in the passage We have read (Proverbs viii.), that the Lord Jesus Christ, who represents himself as Wisdom, was with God before the w^orld was cre- ated, and we have every reason to believe that we are to un- derstand this as meaning, that he not only was with God in company, but with God in cooperation. Besides, we have other Scriptures to prove that " all things were made by him, and without him was not any thing made that was made." And to quote yet another passage that clinches this truth. God said, " Let us make mmi y" so that a part of the consul- tation was with reference to the making of worlds, and the creatures that should inhabit them. I believe that in the sov- ereign council of eternity, the mountains were weighed in scales, and the hills in balance ; then was it fixed in sovereign council how far the sea should go, and where should be its bounds — when the sun shall arise and come forth, like a giant fi'om the chambers of his darkness, and when he should return again to his couch of rest. Then did God decree the moment when he should say, " Let there be light," and the moment w:hen the sun should be turned into darkness, and the moon into a clot of blood. Then did he ordain the form and size of every angel, and the destinies of every creature ; then did he sketch in his infinite thought, the eagle as he soared to heaven, and the worm as he burrowed into the earth. Then the little as well as the great, the minute as well as the im- mense, came under the sovereign decree of God. There was that book written, of which Dr. Watts sings — " Chained to his throne a volume lies, With all the fates of men, With every angel's form and size, Prawn by th' ethereal pen." HIS NAME — ^THE COUNSELOR. 35 Christ was a Counselor in the matter of creation ; with none else took he counsel ; none else instructed him. Christ was the Counselor for all the wondrous works of God. The second topic that was discussed in this council was the %cork of providence. God does not act towards this world like a man who makes a watch, and lets it have its own way- till it runs down ; he is the controller of every wheel in the machine of providence. He has left nothing to itself. We talk of general laws, and philosophers tell us that the world is governed by laws, and then they put the Almighty out of the question. Now, how can a nation be governed by laws apart from a sovereign, or apart from i^agistrates and rulers to carry out the laws ? All the laws may be in the statute book, but put all the police away, take away every magistrate, remove the high court of Parliament, what is the use of laws ? Laws can not govern without active agency to carry them out ; nor could nature proceed in its everlasting cycles by the mere force of law. God is the great motive power of all things; he is in every thing. Not only did he make all things, but by him all things consist. From all eternity, Christ was the Counselor of his Father with regard to providence ; when the first man should be born, when he should wander, aiid when he should be restored ; when the first monarchy should rise, and when its sun should set ; where his people should be placed, how long they should be placed, and where they should be moved. Was it not the Most High who divided to the nations their inheritance ? Hath he not appointed the bounds of our habitation ? Oh ! heir of heaven, in the day of the great council, Christ counseled his Father as to the weight of thy trials, as to the number of thy mercies, if they be num- erable, and as to the time, the way, and the means whereby thou shouldst be brought to himself. Remember, there is nothing that happens in your daily life, but what was first of all devised in eternity, and counseled by Jesus Christ for your good and in your behalf, that' all things might work together for your lasting benefit and profit. But, my friends, what ini- fathomable depths of wisdom must have been involved, when God consulted with himself with regard to the great book of 36 HIS NAME THE COUNSELOE. providence ! Oh, how strange providence seems to you and to me ! Does it not look like a zig-zag line, this way and that way, backward and forward, hke the journeyings of the chil-. dren of Israel in the wilderness ? Ah ! my brethren, but to God it is a straight line. Directly, God always goes to his object ; and yet to us he often seems to go round about. Ah ! Jacob, the Lord is about to provide for thee in Egypt, when there is a famine in Canaan, and he is about to make thy son Joseph great and mighty. Joseph must be sold for a slave ; he must be accused wrongfully; he must be put into the pit, and in the round-house prison he must suffer. But God was going straight to his purpose all the while : he was sending Joseph before them into Egypt that they might be provided for, and when the good old patriarch said, " All these things are against me," he did not perceive the providence of God, for there was not a solitary thing in the whole list that was against him, but every thing was ruled for his weal. Let us learn to leave providence in the hands of the Counselor ; let us rest assured that he is too wise to err in his predestination, and too good to be unkind, and that in the council of eternity, the best was ordained that could have been ordained — that if you and I had been there, we could not have ordained half so well, but that we should have made ourselves eternal fools by meddling therewith. Rest certain, that in the end we shall see that all was well, and must be well for ever. He is "Wonderful, the Counselor," for he counseled in matters of providence. And now with regard to matters of grace. These were also discussed in the everlasting council. When the Three Divine Persons in the solemn seclusion of their own loneliness consulted together with reference to the works of grace, one of the first things they had to consider was, how God should be just and yet the justifier of the ungodly — how the world should be reconciled unto God. Hence you read in the book of Zechariah, if you turn to the sixth chapter and the thirteenth verse, this passage — " The council of peace shall be between them both." The Son of God with his Father and the Spirit, ordained the council of peace. Thus was it arranged. The Son must suffer ; he must be the substitute, must bear his HIS NAME — ^THE COUNSELOR. 87 people's sins and be punished in their stead ; the Father must accept the Son's substitution and allow his people to go free, because Chiist had paid their debts. The Spirit of the living God rhust then cleanse the people whom the blood had par- doned, and so they must be accepted before the presence of God, even the Father. That was the result of the great coun- cil. But, O ray brethren, if it had not been for that council, what a qjiestion would have been left unsolved ? Neither you nor I could ever have thought how the two should meet to- gether — how mercy and justice should kiss each other over the mountain of our sins. I have always thought that one of the greatest proo.Hs that the Gospel is of God, is its revelation that Christ died to save sinners. That is a thought so original, so new, so wonderful; you have not got it in any other reli- gion in the world ; so that it must haye come from God. As I remember to have heard an unschooled and illiterate man say, when I first told him the simple story how Christ was punished in the stead of his people : he burst out with an air of surprise, " Faith ! that's the Gospel, I know ; no man could have made that up ; that must be of God." That wonderful thought, that a God himself should die, that he himself should bear our sins, that so God the Father might be able to forgive and yet exact the utmost penalty, is super-human, super- angelic ; not even the cherubim and seraphim could have been the inventors of it : but that thought was first struck out from the mind of God in the councils of eternity, when the " Won- derful, the Counselor," was present with his Father. Again : another part of the great council was this — who shall be saved ? Now, my friends, you that like not old Cal- vinistic doctrine will perhaps be horrified, but that I can not help ; I will never modify a doctrine I believe to please any man that walks upon earth ; but I will prove from Scripture that I have the warrant of God in this matter, and that it is not my own invention. I say that one part of the council of eternity was the predestination of those whom God had de- termined to save, and I will read you the passage that proves it. " In whom also we have obtained an inheritance, being predestinated according to the purpose of him that worketh 38 HIS NAME — ^THE COUNSELOR. all things after the counsel of his own will." The predestina- tion of every one of God's people was arranged at the eternal council, where God's will sat as the sovereign umpire and un- disputed president. There was it said of each redeemeti one, " At such an hour I will call him by my grace, for I have loved him with an everlasting love, and by my loving kindness will I draw him." There was it originated when the peace-speak- ing blood shall be laid to that elect one's conscience, when the Spirit of the living God shall breathe joy and consolation into his heart. There was it settled how that chosen one should be " kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation ;" and there was it determined and settled by two immutable things, wherein it is impossible for God to lie, that every one of these should be eternally saved, beyond the shadow of a risk of perishing. The Apostle Paul was not like some preachers, who are afraid to say a word about the everlasting council; for he says in his epistle to the Hebrews — "God willing more abundantly to show unto the heirs of promise the immutability of his council, confirmed it by an oath." Now, you hear some talk about the immutability of the prorn- ise : that is good. But the immutability of God's counsel — that is to fithom to the very uttermost the doctrines of gmce. The council of God from all eternity is immutable ; not one purpose has he ever altered, not one decree has he ever changed ; he has nailed his decrees against the pillars of eter- nity, and though the devils have sought to rend them down from the posts of his magnificent palace, yet, saith he, " have I set my king upon my holy hill of Zion ;" the decree shall stand ; I will do all my pleasure. Thy counsels of old are faithfulness and truth ; thou. Lord, in the beginning hast made the heavens and laid the foundations of the earth ; thou hast determined thy plans and purposes, and they stand fast for ever and ever. I think I have sufficiently declared how Christ was the Counselor, in the transcendent aJffairs of nature, Providence, and grace, in the everlasting council-chamber of eternity. But now I would have you notice what a mercy it was that th'ere was such a counselor with God, and how fit Christ was to be HIS NAME — ^THE COUNSELOE. 39 the Counselor. Christ himself is wisdom. He chargeth his angels with folly ; but he is God only wise himself. If a fool undertake to be a counselor, his counsel is folly ; but when Christ counseled, his counsel was full of wisdom. But there is another qualification necessary for a counselor. However wise a man be, he has no right to be a counselor with a king^ unless he has some dignity and standing. There may happen to be in my congregation some person of great talent ; but if my friend should present himself at the cabinet council and give his advice, he would most probably be unceremoniously dismissed, for they would say, " Art thou of the king's coun- cil ; if not, what right hast thou to stand here ?" Now Christ was glorious ; he was equal with his Father, therefore he had a right to counsel God — to counsel with God. Had an angel offered his advice to God it would have been an insufferable impertinence ; had the cherubim or seraphim volunteered to give so much as one word of counsel it would have been blas- phemy. He would take no counsel from his creatures. Why should wisdom stoop from its throne, to counsel with created folly? But because Christ was far above all principalities and powers and every name that is named, therefore he had a right, not only from his wisdom, but from his rank, to be a Counselor with God. - But there is one thing that is always necessary in a man, before we can rejoice in his being a counselor. There are some counselors concerning the legislation of our country in whom you or I could not rejoice much, because we feel that in their counsels the most of us would be forgotten. Our farm- ing friends would probably rejoice in them ; they will consult their interest, there is not much doubt ; but whoever heard of a counselor yet who counseled for the poor ? or who has these many years heard so much as an inkling of the name of a man who really counseled for economy and for the good of his nation ? We have plenty of men who i^roraise us that they will counsel for us — abundance of men who, if we would but return them to Parliament, would most assuredly pour forth such wisdom in our behalf that without doubt we should be the most happy and enlighteneul people in the world according 40 HIS NAME — THE COUlSrSELOE. to their promise ; but alas ! when they get into office they have no hearty sympathy with us ; they belong to a different rank from the most of us, they do not sympathize with the wants and the desires of the middle class and of the poor. But, with regard to Christ, we can put every confidence in him, for we know that in that council from eternity he sympa- thized with man. He says, " My delights were with the sons of men." Happy men to have a counselor who delights in them ! Moreover, he then, though he was not man, yet fore- saw that he was to be " bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh," and therefore in the counsels of eternity he pleaded his own cause when he pleaded our cause, for he well knew that he was to be tempted in all points like as we are, and was to sufibr our sufierings and to be our covenant head in union with ourselves. Sweet Counselor ! I love to think thou wast in the everlasting council, my friend, my brother born for ad- versity ! n. Having thus discussed the first point, I shall proceed to consider briefly the second, according to the translation of the Septuagint. Christ is the angel of the geeat couxcil. Do you and I want to know what was said and done in the great council of eternity ? Yes, we do. I will defy any man, whoever he may be, not to want to know something about destiny. What means the ignorance of the common people, when they appeal to the witch, the pretender ? when they inquire of the astrologer, and read the book of the pretended soothsayer ? Why it means that man wants to know some- thing about the everlasting council. And what mean all the perplexing researches of certain persons into the prophecies ? I consider very often that the inferences drawn from prophecy are very little better, after all, than the guesses of the Nor- wood gipsey, and that some people, who have been so busy in foretelling the end of the world, would have been better em- ployed if they had foretold the end of their own books, and had not imposed on the public by predictions, assaying to in- terpret the prophecies, without the shadow of a foundation. But from their credulity we may learn that among the higher • class as well as among the mov'e ignorant, there is a strong HIS NAME — THE COUNSELOR. 41 desire to know the councils of eternity. Beloved, there is only one glass through which you and I can look back to the dim darkness of the shronded past, and read the counsels of God, and that glass is the person of Jesus Christ. Do I want to know what God ordained with regard to the salvation of man fi-om before the foundation of the world? I look to Christ ; I find that it was ordained in Christ that he should be the first elect, and that a people should be chosen in him. Do you ask the way in which God ordained to save ? I answer, he ordained to save by the cross. Do you ask how God ordained to pardon ? The answer comes, he ordained to pardon through the sufferings of Christ, and to justify through his resurrection from the dead. Every thing that you want to know with regard to what God ordained, every thing that you ought to know, you can find out in the person of Jesus Christ. And again, do I long to know the great secret of destiny? I must look to Christ. What mean these wars, this confusion, these garments rolled in blood ? I see Christ born of a virgin, and then I read the world's history back- wards, and I see that all this led to Christ's coming. I see that all these leaned one upon another, as I have sometimes seen clusters of rocks leaning on each other, and Christ the great leading rock bearing up the superincumbent mass of all past history. And if I want to read the future I look at Christ, and I learn that he who has gone up to heaven, is to come again from heaven in like manner as he went up to heaven. So all the future is clear enough to me. I do not know whether the Pope of Rome is to obtain universal empire or not ; I do not mind whether the Russian empire is to swal- low up all the nations of the continent ; there is one thing I know ; God will overturn, overturn, overturn, till he shall come whose right it is to reign ; and I know that though the worms devour my body, yet when he shall stand in the latter day upon the earth, in my flesh shall I see God, and* there is enough in that for me. All the rest of history is unimportant compared with its end, its issues, its purpose. The end of the first Testament is the first advent of Christ ; the end of this second Testament of modern history is the second advent of 42 HIS NAME THE COUNSELOR. the Saviour ; and then shall the book of time be closed. But none could open the Old Testament history and make it out, except through Christ. Abraham could understand it, for he knew that Christ was to come ; Christ opened the book for him. And so modern history is never to be understood except through Christ. None but the Lamb can take the book and open every seal ; but he who believeth in Christ and looks for his glorious advent, he may open the book and read therein, and have understanding, for in Christ there is a revelation of the eternal councils. "N"ow," says one, " sir, I want to know one thing, and if I knew that, I would not care what happened. I want to know whether God from all eternity ordained me to be saved." Well, friend, I will tell you how to find that out, and you may find it out to a certainty. " I^ay," says one, " but how can I know that ? You can not read the book of fate ; that is im- possible." I have heard of some divine, of a very hyper school hideed, who said, " Ah ! blessed be the Lord, there are some of God's dear people here ; I can tell them by the very look of their faces ; I know that they are among God's elect." He was not half so discreet as Rowland Hill, who, when he was advised to preach to none but the elect, said, " He would certainly do so if some one would chalk them all on the back first." That was never attempted by anybody ; so Rowland Hill went on preaching the gospel to every creature, as I de- sire to do. But you may find out whether you are among his chosen ones, " How ?" says one. Why, Christ is the angel of the covenant, and you can find it out by looking to him. Many people want to knovv their election before they look to Christ. Beloved, you can not know your election, except as you see it in Christ. If you want to know your election, thus shall you assure your hearts before God. Do you feel yourself this morning to be a lost, guilty sinner ? go straight- way to fhe cross of Christ, and tell Christ that, and tell him that you have read in the Bible " That him that cometh unto him he will in no wise cast out." Tell him that he has said, "This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom HIS NAME — ^THE COUNSELOR. 43 you are chief." Look to Christ and believe on hira, and you shall make proof of your election directly, for so surely as thou believest thou art elect. If thou wilt give thyself wholly up to Christ and trust him, then thou art one of God's chosen ones ; but if you stop and say, " I want to know first whether I am elect," that is impossible. If there be something cov- ered up, and I say, " Now before you can see this you must lift the vail ;" and you say, " Nay, but I want to see right through the vail," you can not. Lift the vail first, and you shall see. Go to Christ, guilty, just as you are. Leave all curious inquiry about thy election alone. Go straight away to Christ, just as you are, black, naked, penniless and poor, and say, " Nothing in my hands I bring, Siniply to thy cross I cling," and you shall know your election. The assurance of the Holy Spirit sl^U be given to you, so that you shall be able to say, '* I know whom I have believed, and I am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed to him." Now, do notice this. Christ was at the everlasting council : he can tell you whether you were chosen or not ; but you can not find that out any how else. You go and put your trust in hira and I know what the answer will be. His answer will be — " I have loved thee with an everlasting love, therefore in loving kindness have I drawn thee." There will be no doubt about his having chosen you^ when you shall feel no doubt about having chosen him. So much for the second point. Christ is a Counselor. He is the angel of the council, because he tells out God's secrets to us. " The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him, and he will show them his covenant." HI. The last point was, Christ is a Counselor to us. And here I shall want to give some practical hints to God's people. Some how or other, brethren, it is not good for man to be alone. A lonely man must be, I think, a miserable man ; and a man without a Counselor, I think, must of necessity go wrong. " Where there is no counselor," says Solomon, '* the people fall." I think most persons will find it so. A man says, 44 HIS NAME — ^THE COXHSTSELOB. " Well, I'll have my own way, and I will ask nobody." Have it, sir — have it — and you will find that in having your own way you have probably had the worst way you could. We all feel our need at times of a counselor. David was a man after God's own heart and dealt much with his God ; but he had his Ahithophel, with whom he took sweet counsel, and they walked to the house of God in company. Kings must have some advisers. Woe unto the man that hath got a bad counselor. Rehoboam took counsel of the young men, and not of the old men, and they counseled him so that he lost ten-twelfths of his empire. Some take counsel of stocks and stones. We know many who counsel at the hands of fooHsh charms, instead of going to Christ. They shall have to learn that there is but one Christ who is to be trusted ; and that however necessary a counselor may be, yet none other shall be found to fulfill the necessity, but Jesus Christ the Counsel- or. Let me make a remark or two with regard to this Coun- selor, Jesus Christ. * And, first, Christ is a necessary Counselor. So sure as we do any thing without asking counsel of God we fall into trouble. Israel made a league with Gibeon, and it is said, they took of their victuals, and they asked not counsel at the mouth of the Lord, and they found out that the Gibeonites had deceived them. If they had asked counsel first, no cunning deception could have imposed on them in the matter. Saul, the son of Kish, died before the Lord upon the mountains of Gilboa, and in the book of Chronicles it is written, he died because he asked not counsel of God, but sought unto the wizards. Joshua, the great commander, when he was appointed to sug- ceed Moses, w^as not left to go alone, but it is written, " And Eliezer the priest shall be his counselor, and he shall ask coun- sel of the Lord for him." And all the great men of olden times, when they were about to do an action, paused, and they said to the priest, " Bring hither the ephod," and he put on the Urim and the Thummim, and appealed to God and the answer came, and sound advice was vouchsafed. You and I will have to learn how necessary it is always to take advice of God. Did you ever seek God's advice on your knees about a HIS NAME — THE COUNSELOR. 45 difficulty and then go amiss ? Brethren, I can testify for my God that when I have submitted my will to his directing Spirit, I have always had reason to thank him for his wise counsel. But when I have asked at his hands, having already made up my own mind, I have had my own way ; but like as he fed the Israelites with the quails of heaven — while the meat w^as yet in their mouth, the wrath of God came upon them. Let us take heed always that we never go before the cloud. He that goes before the cloud goes a fool's errand, and will be glad to get back again. An old Puritan used to say, " He that carves for himself will cut his fingers. Leave God to carve for you in providence, and all shall be well. Seek God's guidance and nothing can go amiss." It is necessary counsel. In the next place, Christ's counsel \^ faithful counsel. When Ahithophel lell David, it proved that he was not faithful, and when Hushai went to Absalom and counseled him, he coun- seled him craftily, so that the good counsel of Ahithophel was brought to nouerht. Ah ! how often do our friends counsel us craftily ! We have known them to do so. They have looked first to their own advantage, and then they have said, " If I can get him to do so-and-so it will be the best for me." That was not the question we asked them. It was what would be best for ourselves. But we may trust Christ, that in his ad- vice to us there never can be any self interest. He will be quite certain to advise us with the most disinterested motives, so that the good shall be to us, and the profit to ouf selves. Again, Christ's counsel is hearty counsel. I hate to go to a lawyer above all people, to talk with him upon matters of business. The worst kind of conversation is, I think, conver- sation with a lawyer. There is your case ! Dear me, what an interest you feel in it ! You spread it out before him, and he says, " There is a word upon the second page not quite correct." You look at it, and you say, " Ah I that is totally unimportant; that does not signify." He turns to another clause and he says, " Ah ! there is a good deal here !" " My dear fellow," you say, *' I do not care about those petty clauses, whether it says lands, properties, or hereditaments : what I want you to do is to set this difficulty right in point of law." 40 HIS NAME — ^THE OOUNSELOK. " Be patient," he says ; you must go through a great many consultations before he will come to tlie point, and all the while your poor heart is boiling over because you feel such an interest in the main point. But he is as cool as possible ; you think you are asking counsel of a block of marble. No doubt his advice will come out all right at last, and it is pretty certain it will be good for you ; but it is not hearty. He does not en- ter into the sympathies of the matter with you. What is it to him whether you succeed or not ? whether the object of your heart shall be accomplished or not ? It is but a profes- sional interest he takes. Now, Solomon says, "As ointment for perfume, so is hearty counsel." When a man throws his own soul into your case, and says, " My dear friend, I'll do any thing I can to help you ; let me look at it," and he takes as deep an interest in it as you do yourself. " If I were in your position," he says, " I should do so-and-so ; by-the-bye, there is a word wrong there." Perhaps he tells you so, but he only tells you because he is anxious to have it all right ; and you can see that his drift is always towards the same end that you are seeking, and that he is only anxious for your good. Oh ! for a Counselor that could tie your heart into union with his own ! Now Christ is such a Counselor as that. He is a hearty Counselor. His interests and your interests are bound up together, and he is hearty with you. But there is another kind of counsel still. David says of one, who lifterwards became his enemy, "We took sweet counsel together." Christian, do you know what sweet coun- sel is ? You have gone to your Master in the day of trouble, and in the secret of your chamber you have poured out your heart before him. You have laid your case before him with all its difficulties, as Hezekiah did Rabshakeh's letter, and you have felt, that though Christ was not there in flesh and blood, yet he was there in spirit, and he counseled you. You felt that his was counsel that came from the veiy heart. But he was something better than that. There was such a sweetness coming with his counsel, such a radiance of love, such a fullness of fellowship, that you said, " Oh that I were in trouble every day, if I might have such sweet counsel as HIS NA-ME — THE COUNSELOR. 47 this !" Christ is the Counselor whom I wish to consult every hour, and I wish that I could sit in his secret chamber all day and all night long, because to counsel with him is to have sweet counsel, hearty counsel, and wise counsel all at the same time. Why, you may have a friend that talks very sweetly with you, and you will say, "Well, he is a kind, good soul, but I really can not trust his judgment." You have another friend, who has a good deal of judgment, and yet you say of him, " Certainly, he is a man of prudence above a gieat many, but I can not find out his sympathy ; I never get at his heart ; if he was ever so rough and untutored, I w^ould sooner have his heart without his prudence, than his prudence without his heart." But we go to Christ, and we get wisdom ; w^e get love, we get sympathy, we get every thing that can possibly be wanted in a Counselor. And now we must close by noticing that Christ has special counsels for each of us this morning, and what are they? Tried child of God, your daughter is sick; your gold has melted in the fire ; you are sick yourself, and your heart is sad. Christ counsels you, and he says, "Cast thy burden upon the Lord, he will sustain you ; he will never sufier the righteous to be moved." Young man, you that are seeking to be great in this world, Christ counsels you this morning. " Seekest thou great things for thyself? seek them not." I shall never forget Midsummer common. I was ambitious ; I was seeking to go to college, to leave my poor people in the "wilderness that I might become something great; and as I was walking there, that text came with power to my heart — " Seekest thou great things for thyself? seek them not." I suppose about forty pounds a year was the sum total of ray income, a»d I was thinking how I should make both ends meet, and whether it would not be a great deal better for me to resign my charge and seek something for the bettering of myself, and so forth. But this text rang in my ears, " Seekest thou great things for thyself? seek them not." "Lord," said I, " I will follow thy counsel and not my own devices ;" and I have never had cause to regret it. Always take the Lord for thy guide, and thou shalt never go amiss. Backslider I 48^ HIS NAME — THE COUNSELOR. thou that hast a name to live, and art dead, or nearly dead, Christ gives thee counsel. "I counsel thee to buy of me, gold tried in the fire and white raiment, that thou mayest be clothed." And sinner ! thou that art far from God, Christ gives thee counsel. " Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Depend on it, it is loving counsel. Take it. Go home and cast youself upon your knees. Seek Christ; obey his counsel, and you shall have to rejoice that you ever listened to his voice, and heard it, and lived. SERMON III. "AS THT DAYS, SO SHALL THY STRENGTH BE." "As thy days, so shall thy strength be." — ^Deut., xxxiii. 25. Beloved, it seems a sad thing that every day must die and be followed by a night. When we have seen the hills clad with verdure to their summit, and the seas laving their base with a silver glory ; when we have stretched our eye far away, and have seen the widening prospect full of loveliness and beauty, we have felt sad that the sunlight should ever set upon such a scene, and that so much beauty should be shrouded in the oblivion of darkness. But how much reason have we to bless God for nights ! for if it were not for nights how much of beauty never would be discovered. Never should I have considered the heavens, the work of thy fingers, O my God, if thou hadst not first covered the sun with a thick mantle of darkness : the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained, had never been bright in mine eyes, if thou hadst not hidden the light of the sun and bidden him retire within the curtains of the west. Kight seems to be the great friend of the stars : they must be all unseen by eyes of men, were they not set in the foil of darkness. It is even so with winter. We might feel sad, that all the flowers of summer must dic,.and all the fruits of autumn must be gathered into' their storehouse, that every tree must be stripped, and that all the fields must lose their fair flowers. But were it not for winter we should never see the glistening crystals of the snow ; we should never be- hold the beauteous festoons of the icicles that hang from the eaves. Much of God's marvelous miracles of hoar frost must have been hidden from us, if it had not been for the cold chill of winter, which, when it robs us of one beauty, gives us another — when it takes away the emerald of verdure, it gives 60 "as thy days, so shall thy strength be." us the diamond of ice — when it casts from us the bright rubies of the flowers, it gives us the fair, white ermine of snow. Well now, translate these two ideas, and you will see why it is that even our sin, our lost and ruined estate, has been made the means, in the hand of God, of manifesting to' us the ex- cellences of his character. My dear friends, if you and I had been without trouble, we never could have had such a promise as this given to us : — " As thy days, so shall thy strength be'." It is our weakness that has made room for God to give us such a promise as this. Our sins make room lor a Saviour ; our frailties make room for the Holy Spirit to correct them ; all our wanderings make room for the good Shepherd, that he may seek us and bring us back. We do not love nights, but we do love stars ; we do not love weakness, but we do bless God for the promise that is to sustain us in our weakness ; we do not admire winter, but we do admire the glittering snow ; we must shudder at our own trembhng weakness, but we still do bless God that we are weak because it makes room for the display of his own invincible strength in fulfilling such a promise as this. In addressing you this morning, I shall first have to notice the self-weakness which is implied in our text / secondly, I shall come to the great promise of the text ; and then I shall try and draw one or two inferences from it, ere I conclude. I. First, the self-weakness hinted at in the text. To keep to my figure, if this promise be like a star, you know there is no seeing the stars in the day-time when we stand here upon the upper land ; we must go down a deep well, and then we shall be able to discover them. IN'ow, beloved, as this is day-time with our hearts, it will be necessary for us to go down the deep well of old recollections of our past trials and troubles. We must first get a good fair idea of the great depth of our own weakness, b.efore we shall be able to behold the brightness of this rich and exceeding precious promise. A self sufiicient man can no more understand this promise, than a coal heaver can understand Greek : he has never been in a position in which to understand it ; he has never learned his own need of another's strength, and therefore he can not " AS THY DAYS, SO SHALL THY STRENGTH BE." 61 possibly understand the value of a promise which consists in giving to us a strength beyond our own. Let us for a few minutes consider our own weakness. Ye children of God, have ye not proved your own weakness in the day of duty f The Lord has spoken to you, and he has said, " Son of man, run, and do such and such a thing which I bid thee ;" and you have gone to do it, but as you have been upon your way, a sense of great responsibility has bowed you down, and you have been ready to turn back even at the outset, and to cry, " Send by whomsoever thou wilt send, but not by me." Reinforced by strength, you have gone to the duty, but while performing it, you have at times felt your hands hanging exceeding heavy, and you have had to look up many a time and cry, " O Lord, give me more strength, for without tliy strength this work must be unaccomplished ; I can not perform it myself." And when the work has been done, and you have looked back upon it, you have either been filled with amazement that it should have been done at all by so poor and weak a worm as yourself, or else you have been overcome with horror because you have been afraid the work was marred, Uke the vessel on the potter's wheel, by reason o^ your own want of skillfiilness. I confess, in my own posi- tion, I have a thousand causes to confess my own weakness every day. In preparing for the pulpit how often do we dis- cover our weakness when a hundred texts exhibit themselves, and we know not which to choose ; and when we have selected our subject, distracting thoughts come in, and when we would concentrate our minds upon some holy topic, we find they are carried hither and thither, driven about like the minds of chil- dren by every wind of thought. And when we bow out knees to seek the Lord's help before we preach, how often does our tongue refuse to give utterance to the earnestness of our hearts ? And alas ! how frequently too is our heart cold when we are about to enter upon an occupation which requires the heart to be hot like a furnace, and the lip to be burning like a live coal. Here in this pulpit I have often learned ray weakness, when words have fled from me, and thoughts havo departed too, and when that zeal which I thought would have 62 poured itself forth like a cataract, has trickled forth in unwil- ling drops like a sullen stream, the source of which doth almost fail, and which seemeth itself as if it longed to be dried up and dead. And after preaching, how have I cast myself upon my bed, and tossed to and fro, groaning because I thought I had failed to deliver my message, and had not preached my Master's Word as my Master would have me preach it. All of you, in your own callings, I dare say, have had enough to prove that. I do not believe a Christian man can examine himself without finding every day that weakness is proven even in the doing of his duty. Your shop, however small, will be enough to prove to you your weakness ; your business, however little, your cares, however light, your fam- ily, however small, will furnish you with enough proofs of the fact : " Without me ye can do nothing ;" " He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit : for without me ye can do nothing." But, beloved, we prove our weakness, perhaps more visibly, when w^e come into the day of suffering. There it is that we are weak indeed. I have sat by the side of those who have been exceedingly sick, and have marked their patience ; but I do not know that I ever wondered at the patience of a sick man so much as I do when I am sick myself; then patience is an extraordinary virtue. Women suifer, and suffer well ; but I do think there are very few men who could bear the tithe of the suffering that many women endure, without exhibiting a hundred times as much impatience. Most of us who are gifted with strong constitutions, and have but little of sickness, have to chasten ourselves, that what little sickness we have to contend with is borne with so little resignation and with so much impatience ; that we are so ready to repine, so prepared to bow our heads and wish we were dead, because a little pain is rending our body. Here it is that we prove our weakness indeed. Ah ! people of God, it is one thing to talk about the furnace ; it is another thing to be in it. It is one thing to look at the doctor's knife, but quite another thing to feel it. You wdll find it one thing to sip the cup of medicine, but quite another thing to lie in bed a dreary week or month, and to "as thy days, so shall thy strength be." 63 drink on, and on, and on, of that nauseating draught. When you are on dry land, most of you are good sailors ; out at sea you are vastly difterent. There is many a man who makes a wonderfully brave soldier till he gets into the battle, and then he wishes himself miles away, and except his spurs there is no weapon he can use with much advantage. That man has never been sick who does not know his weakness, his want of pa- tience and of endi^-ance. Again, beloved, there is another thing which will very soon prove our weakness, if neither duty nor suffering will do it — namely, progress. You sit down to-morrow and you read the life of some eminent servant of God : perhaps the life of David Brainard, and how he gave up his life for his Master in the wilderness ; or the heroic life of Henry Martyn, and how he sacrificed all for Christ : and as you read you say within yourself, " I will endeavor to be like this man ; I will seek to have his faith, his self denial, his love to never-dying souls." Try and get them, beloved, and you will soon find your own weakness. I have sometimes thought I would try to have more faith, but I have found it very hard to keep as much as I had. I have thought, " I will love my Saviour more," and it was right that I should strive to do so ; but when I sought to love him more I found that perhaps I was going backward instead of for- ward. How often do we find out our weakness when God answers our prayers ! " I asked the Lord that I might erow In faith, and love, and every grace ; Might more of his salvation know, And seek more earnestly his face. I hoped that in some favor'd hour At once he'd answer my request, And by his love's constraining power, Subdue my sins, and give me rest. Instead of this he made me feel The hidden evils of my heart, And let the angry power of hell Assault my soul in every part 54 "as thy days, so shall thy steength be." ' Lord, why is this ?' I trembling cried, ' Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death ?' • ' 'Tis in this waj^,' the Lord repUed, ' I answer prayer for grace and faith.' " That is, the Lord helps us to grow downward when we are only thinking about growing upward. Let any of you try to grow in grace, and seek to run the heavenly race, and make a little progress, and you will soon find, in such a slippery road as that which we have to travel, that it is very hard to go one step forward, though remarkably easy to go a great many steps backward. If neither of these three things will prove thy weakness, Christian, I will advise thee to try another. See what thou art in temptation. I have seen a tree in the forest that seemed to stand fast like a rock ; I have stood beneath its wide-spread- ing branches, and have sought to shake its trunk, to see if I could, but it stood immovable. The sun shone upon it, and the rain descended, and many a winter's frost sprinkled its boughs with snow, but it still stood fast and firm. But one night there came a howling wind which swept through the forest, and the tree that seemed to stand so fast lay stretched along the ground, its gaunt arms which once were lifted up to heaven lying hopelessly broken, and the trunk snapped in twain. And so have I seen many a professor strong and mighty, and nothing seemed to move him ; but I have seen the wind of persecution and temptation come against him, and I have heard him creak with murmuring, and at last have seen him break in apostasy, and he has lain along the ground a mournful sj)ecimen of what every man must become who maketh not the Lord his strength, and who relieth not upon the Most High. "Ah!" says one, "I do not believe I could be tempted to sin." My friend, it depends upon what kind of temptation it should be. There are many of us here who could not be tempted to drunkenness, and others who could not be tempted to lust. If the devil should set before some of you cups of the richest wines that ever came from the vintages of Burgundy or of Xeres, you would not care for them ; if you did but sip them it would suffice you : it would be in vain to tempt you with the drunkard's song ; nothing could induce "as thy days, so shall thy stbength be." 65 you to lose your equilibrium by intoxicating liquors ; but per- haps you are the very man whom a temptation of lust might overthrow. While there be other men whom neither lust nor wine can overcome, who may be led by a prospect of profit into that which is dishonest ; and others again, whom neither profit, nor lust, nor wine, would turn aside, may be over- thrown by anger, or envy, or malice. We have all our ten- der points. When Thetis dipped Achilles in the Styx, you remember she held him by the heel ; he was made invulner- able wherever the water touched him, but his lieel not being covered with the water, was vulnerable, and there Parts shot his arrow, and he died. It is even so with us. We may think that we are covered with virtue till we are totally invulner- able, but we have a heel somewhere ; there is a place where the arrow of the devil can make way : hence the absolute necessity of taking to ourselves " the whole armor of God," so that there may not be a solitary joint in the harness that shall be unprotected against the arrows of the devil. Satan is very crafty ; he knows the ins and outs of manhood. There is many an old castle that has stood against every attack, but at last some traitor from within has gone without, and said, "I know an old deserted passage, a subterranean back way, that has not been used for many a day. In such and such a field you will see an opening ; clear away a heap of stones there, and I will lead you down the passage : you will then come to an old door of which I have the key, and I can let you in; and so by a back way I can lead you into the very heart of the citadel, which you may then easily capture." It is so with Satan. Man knoweth not himself so well as Satan knows him. There are back ways and subterranean passages into man's heart which the devil doth well understand ; and he who thinketh that he is safe, let him take heed lest he fall. That is not a bad hymn of Dr. Watts, after all, where he tells us that Samson was very strong while he wore his hair, but '• Samson, when liis hair was lost, Met tho Philistines to his cost : Shook his vain hmbs with vast surprise. Made feeble fight, and lost his eyes." 56 "as thy days, so shall thy strength be." The reason was, because there was a back way into Samson's heart. The Philistines could not overcome him : " Heaps upon heaps, with the jaw-bone of an ass have I slain a thou- sand men." Come on, Philistines, he will rend you in pieces as he did the young lion ; bind him with green withes, and he will snap them as tow ; weave his locks with a weaver's beam, and he will carry away loom and all, and go out like a giant refreshed 'with new wine. But, O Delilah, he hath a back way to his heart ; thou hast found it out, and now thou canst overthrow him. Tremble, for ye may yet be overcome! Ye ar^as weak as water if God shall leave you alone. Now, I think, if we have well surveyed these different points of our moral standing on earth, every child of God will be ready to confess that he is weak. I imagine there may be some of you ready to say, " Sir, I am nothing." Then I shall reply, " Ah ! you are a young Christian." There will be others of you who will say, " Sir, I am less than nothing." And I shall say, " Ah ! you are an old Christian ;" for the older Christians get, the less they become in their own esteem, the more they feel their own weakness, and the more entirely they rely upon the strength of God. II. Having thus dwelt upon the first point, we shall now come to the second — The Great Pkomise, — " As thy days, so shall thy strength be." In the first place,- this is a well guaranteed promise. A promise is nothing unless I have good security that it shall be fulfilled. It is in vain for men to promise largely unless their fulfillment shall be as large as their promise, lor the largeness of their promise is just the largeness of deception. But here every word of God is true. God has issued no more notes for the bank of heaven than he can cash in an hour if he wills. There is enough bullion in the vaults of Omnipotence to pay off every bill that ever shall be drawn by the faith of man or the promises of God. Now look at this one^-" As thy days, so shall thy strength be." Beloved, God has a strong reserve with which to pay off this promise ; for is he not himself omnipotent, able to do all things ? Believer, till thou canst drain dry the ocean of om- "as thy days, so shall thy strength be." 57 nipotence, till thou canst break into pieces the towering moun- tains of almighty strength, thou never needest to fear. Until thine enemy can stop the course of a whirlwind with a reed, till he can twist the hurricane from its path by a word of his puny lip, thou needest not think that the strength of man shall ever be able to overcome the strength which is in thee, namely, the strength of God. Whilst the earth's huge pillars stand, thou hast enough to make thy faith firm. The same God who guides the stars in their courses, who directs the earth in its orbit, who feeds the burning furnace of the sun, and keeps the stars perpetually burning with their fires — the same God has promised to supply thy strength. While he is able to do all these things, think not that he shall be unable to fulfill his own promise. Remember what he did in the days of old, in the former generations. Remember how he spake, and it was done ; how he commanded, and it stood fast. Do you not see him in the black eternity ? When there was nothing but grim darkness, there he stood — the mighty Arti- ficer : upon the anvil there he cast a hot mass of flame, and hammering it with his own ponderous arm, each spark that flew from it made a world ; there those sparks are glittering now, the ofispring of the anvil of the eternal purposes, and the hammer of his own majestic might. And shall he, that created the world, grow weary ? Shall he fail ? Shall he break his promises for want of strength ? He haugeth the world upon nothing ; he fixed the pillars of heaven in silver sockets of light, and thereon he hung the golden lamjis, the sun and the moon ; and shall he that did all this be unable to support his children ? Shall he be unfaithful to his word for want of 2>ower in his arm or strength in his will ? Remember again, thy God, who has promised to be thy strength, is the God who upholdeth all things by the word of his hand. Who feedeth the ravens ? Who supplies the lions ? Doth not he do it ? And how ? He openeth his hand and supplieth the want of every living thing. He has to do notliing more tlian simply to open his hand. Who is it that restrains the tem- pest ? Doth not he say that he rides upon the wings of tho wind, that he maketh the clouds |iis chariots, and holds tho 3* 68 "as thy days, so shall thy steength be." water in the hollow of his hand ? Shall he fail thee ? When he has put such a promise as this on record, shalt thou for a moment indulge the thought that he has out-promised himself, and gone beyond his power to fulfill ? Ah ! no. Who was it that cut Rahab in pieces, and wounded the dragon ? Who divided the Red Sea, and made the waters thereof stand up- right as a heap ? Who led the people through the wilder- ness ? Who was it that did cast Pharaoh into the depths of the sea, his chosen captains, also, in the depth of the Red Sea ? Who rained fire and brimstone out of heaven upon Sodom and Gomorrah ? Who chased out the Canaanite with the hornet, and made a way of escape for his people Israel ? Who was it that brought them again from their captivity, and did settle them again in their own land ? Who is he that hath put down kings, yea and slew mighty kings, that he might make room for his people wherein they might dwell in a quiet habitation ? Hath not the Lord done it : and is his arm shortened that he can not save : or is his ear heavy that he can not hear ? O thou who art my God and my strength, I can beheve that this promise shall be fulfilled, for the boundless reservoir of thy grace can never be exhausted, and the illimitable store-house of thy strength can never be emptied or rifled by the enemy. It is, then, a well guaranteed promise. But now I want you to notice it is a limited promise. " What !" says one, " limited ! Why it says, ' As thy days, so shall thy strength be.' " Ay, it is hmited. I know it is un- limited in our troubles, but still it is limited. First, it says our strength is to be as our days are ; it does not say our strength is to be as our desires are. Oh ! how often have we thought, " How I wish I were as strong as so-and-so" — one who had a great deal of faith. Ah ! but then you would have rather more faith than you wanted ; and what would be the good of that ? It would be liSe the manna the children of Israel had — if they did not eat it in the day it bred worms and stank. " Still," says one, " if I had fiith like so-and-so, I think I should do wondei's." Yes, but you would get the glory of them. That is why God does not let you have the faith, be- cause he does not want you to do wonders. That is reserved "as thy days, so shall thy strength be." 59 for God, not for you — "He only doeth wondrous things." Once more, it does not say, our strength shall be as oiiv fears. God often leaves us to shift alone with our fears — never with our troubles. Many of God's people have a manufactory at the back of their houses in which they manufacture troubles ; and home-made troubles, like other home-made things, last a very long while, and generally tit very comfortably. Troubles of God's sending are always suitable — the right sort for our backs ; but those that we make are of the wrong sort, and they always last us longer than God's. I have known an old lady sit and fret because she believed she should die in a work-house, and she wanted God to give her grace accordingly ; but what would have been the good of that, because the Lord meant that she should die in her own quiet bedroom ? I have heard of and known men who, being sick, believed they were dying, and wanted grace to die complacently ; but God would not give it because he intended them to live, and why should he give them dying grace till they came to die ? And we have known others who said they wanted grace to endure many troubles which they expected to come upon them. They were going to fail in a foitnight or so, but they did not fail, and it was no wonder they had not grace given to carry them through it, because they did not require it. The promise is, " As thy days, so shall thy strength be." " When your vessel gets empty then will I fill it ; I will not give you any extra, over and above. When you are weak then I will make you strong ; but I will not give you any extra strength to lay by : strength enough to bear your sufferings, and to do your duty ; but no strength to play at matches with your brethren and sisters in order to get the glory to yourselves." Oh! if we had strength according to our wishes we should soon all of us be like Jesh- urun — wax fat, and begin to kick against the Most High. Then again, there is another limit. It says, " As thy da^s, so shall thy strength be." It does not say, " as thy weeks,^^ or ''^ mo7iths^^'> but "as thy days:'' You are not going to have Monday's grace given you on a Sunday, nor Tuesday's grace on a Monday. You shall have Monday's grace given you on Monday morning as soon as you rise and want it ; you shall 60 "as thy days, so. shall thy steength be." not have it given you on Saturday night ; you shall have it " day by day" — no more than you want, no less than you want. I- do not believe God's people are to be trusted with a week's grace all at once. They are like many of our work- men : they get their wages on Saturday night, and then they go and have Saint Monday and Saint Tuesday, and never do a stroke of work till Wednesday, when they go to the pawn- brokers with their tools to help them over till the next Satur- day night. ISTow, I think God's children would do the same. If they had grace given them on Saturday to last them all through the week, I question whether the devil would not get a good deal of it — whether they would not be pawning some of their old evidences before the week was out, in order to live upon them : spending all their grace on Monday and Tuesday, spending very much of their strength in indulging in pride and boasting, instead of walking humbly with their God. ISTo ; " as thy days^ so shall thy strength be." Il^ow, having said that the promise is limited, perhaps I am bound to add— what an extensive promise this is ! " As thy days, so shall thy strength be." Some days are veiy little things ; in our pocket book we have very little to put down, for there was nothing done of any importance. But some days are very big days. Ah ! I have known a big day — a day of great duties, when great things had to be done for God — too great, it seemed, for one man to do ; and when great duty was but half done there came great trouble, such as my poor heart had never felt before. Oh ! what a great day it was ! there was a night of lamen - tation in this place, and the cry of weeping, and of mourning, and of death. Ah ! but blessed be God's name, though the day was big with tempest, and though it swelled with horror, yet as that day was, so was God's strength. Look at poor Job. "What a great day he had once ! " Master," says one, " the oxen were plowing, and the asses feeding beside them, and the Sabeans fell upon them and took them away." In comes another, and he says, " The fire of God hath fallen on the sheep." " Oh," says another, "the Chaldeans have fallen upon the camels and taken them away, and I, only I, am left "as thy DATS, SO SHALL THY STRENGTH BE." 61 to tell thee." Still, you see, grace kept growing with the day. Still strength grew as the trouble grew. At last conies the back stroke : " A gi-eat wind came from the wilderness, and smote the house where thy sons and daughters were feasting, and they are dead, and I, only I, am left to tell thee." Grace still kept growing, and at last the grace did overflow the trouble, and the poor old patriarch cried, " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord." Ah ! Job, that was a big day indeed, and it was big grace that went with that big day. Satan sometimes blows up our days with his black breath till they grow to such a cursed height that we know not how great the days must be. Our head whirls at the thought of passing through such a sea of trouble in so short a space of time. But oh ! how sweet it is to think that the bed of grace is never shorter than a man can stretch himself upon it ; nor is the covering of Almighty love ever shorter than that it may cover us. We never need be afraid. If our troubles should become as high as moun- tains, God's grace would become like Noah's flood : it would go twenty cubits higher till the mountains were covered. If God should send to you and to me a day such as there was none like it, neither should be any more, he would send us strength such as there was none like it, neither should there be any more. Do you see Martin Luther riding into Worms ? There is a solitary monk going before a great council : he knows they will bura him ; did not they burn John Huss, and Jerome of Prague ? Both those men had a safe conduct, and it was vio- lated, and tliey were put to death by Papists, who said that no faith was to be kept with heretics. Luther placed very little reliance on his safe conduct ; and you would have expected as he rode into Worms, that he would have a dejected coun- tenance. Not so. No sooner does he catch sight of Worms, than some one advises him not to go into the city. Said he, " If there were as many devils in Worms, as there are tilfes on the roofs of the houses, I would enter." And he does ride in. He goes to the inn, and cats his bread, and drinks his beer, as complacently as if he were at his own fireside ; and then ho 62 "as thy days, so shall thy strength be." goes quietly to bed. When summoned before the council, and asked to retract his opinion, he does not want time to consider, or debate about it; but he says, "These things that I have written, are the truth of God, and by them will I stand till I die ; so help me God !" The whole assembly trembles, but there is not a flush upon the cheek of the brave monk, nor do his knees knock together. He is in the midst of armed men, and those who seek his blood. There sit fierce cardinals, and blood-thirsty bishops, and the Pope's legate ; like spiders, long- ing to suck his blood. He cares for none of them ; he walks away, and is confident that " God is his refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." " Ah ! but," you say, " I could not do that." Yes you could, if God called you to it. Any child of God can do what any other child of God has done, if God gives him the strength. You could not do what you are doing even now, without God's strength ; and you could do ten thousand times more, if he should be pleased to fill you with his might. What an expansive promise this is ! Once more, what a varyhig promise it is ! I do not mean that the promise varies, but, adapts itself to all our changes, "^s thy days, so shall thy strength be." Here is a fine sun- shiny morning ; all the world is laughing ; every thing looks glad ; the birds are singing, the trees seem to be all alive with music. " My strength shall be as my day is," says the pilgrim. Ah ! pilgrim, there is a little black cloud gathering. Soon it increases ; the flash of lightning wounds the heaven, and it be- gins to bleed in showers. Pilgrim, " As thy days, so shall thy strength be." The birds have done singing, and the world has done laughing ; but, " as thy days, so shall thy strength be." Now the dark night comes on, and another day apj)roaches — »a day of tempest, and whirlwind, and storm. Dost thou tremble, pilgrim ? — " As thy days, so ^hall thy strength be." " But there are robbers in the wood." " As thy days, so shall thy strength be." "But there are lions which shall devour me.'* "As thy days, so shall thy strength be." "But there are rivers ; how shall I swim them ?" Here is a boat to cai-ry thee over : " As thy days, so shall thy strength be." " But there are fires : how shall I pass through them ?" Here is the garment that will protect thee : " As thy days, so shall thy "as thy days, so shall thy strength be." 63 strength be.'* " But there are arrows that fly by day." Here is thy shield : " As thy days, so shall thy streugth be." " But there is the pestilence that walketh in darkness." Here is thy antidote: "As thy days, so shall thy strength be." Where- ever you may be, and whatever trouble awaits you, " As thy days, so shall thy strength be." Children of God, can not you say that this has been true hitherto? Zcan. It might seem egotistical if I were to talk of the evidence I have re- ceived of this during the past week, but nevertheless I can not help recording my praise to God. I left this pulpit last Sab- bath as sick as any man ever left the pulpit, and I left this country too, as ill as I could be ; but no sooner had I set my foot upon the other shore, where I was to preach the gospel, than my wonted strength entirely retunied to me. I had no sooner buckled on the harness to go forth and fight my Mas- ter's battle, than every ache and pain was gone, and all my sickness-fled ; and as my day was, so certainly was my strength. I believe, if I were lying upon a dying couch, if God called me to preach in America, and I had but faith to be carried down to the boat, I should have strength given me, though I seemed to be dying, to minister as the Lord had appointed me. And so would each of you, wherever you might be, find that as your day was, so your strength should be. And in conclusion, what a loiig promise this is ! You may live till you are never so old, but this promise will outlive you. When thou comest into the depths of the river Jordan, " as thy days, so shall tH^- strength be ;" thou shalt have confidence to face the last grim tyrant, and grace to smile even in the jaws of the grave. And when thou shalt rise again in the terrible morning of the resurrection, " as thy days, so shall thy strength be ;" though the earth be reeling with dismay, thou shalt know no fear ; though the heavens are tottering with confusion, thou shalt know no trouble. " As thy days, so shall thy strength be." And when thou shalt see God face to face, though thy weakness were enough to make thee die, thou shalt Lave strength to bear the beatific vision ; thou shalt see him face to face, and thou ahalt five; thou shalt lie in the bosom of thy God ; immortalized and made full of strength, thou shalt be able to bear even the brightness of the Most High. 64 "as thy days, so shall thy strength be." III. What iNTEEENCE shall I draw except this ? Children of the living God, be rid of your doubts, be rid of your trouble and your fear. Young Christians, do not be afraid to set forward on the heavenly race. You bashful Christians, that, like Nicodemus, are ashamed to come out and make an open profession, don't be afraid ; " as your -day is, so shall your strength be." Why need you fear ? You are afraid of dis- gracing your profession, you shall not ; your day shall never be more troublesome, or more full of temptation, than your strength shall be full of deliverance. And as for you that have not God to be yours, I must draw one inference for you. Your strength is decaying. You are growing old, and your old age will not be like your youth. You have strength — strength which you prostitute to the cause of Satan, which you misuse in the service of the devil. When you grow old, as you will do, unless your wickedness shall bring you to an early grave ; they that look out of the windows must be darkened, and the grasshopper must be a burden to you ; and your strength shall not be as your day. And when you come to die, as die you must, then you will have no strength to die with ; you must die alone ; you must hear yon iron gates creak on their hinges, and no guardian angel to comfort you, as you go through the dreary A^ault. And you must stand at God's great bar at the day of resurrection, and no one to strengthen you there. How will your cheek blanch with ter- ror ! How will your soul be affrighted with horror, when you shall hear it said, " Depart, ye cursed, into*everlasting fire pre- pared for the devil and his angels." You have no such prom- ise as this to cheer you onward, but you have this to drive you to despair : your days shall become heavier, but your strength shall become Ughter ; your sorrows shall be multiplied, and your joys shall be diminished ; your days shall shorten, and your nights shall lengthen ; your summers shall become dimmer, and your winters shall become blacker ; all your hopes shall die, and your fears shall live. Ye shall reap the harvest of your sins in the dreadful vintage of eternal wrath. May God give us all grace, so that when days and years are past, we all may meet in heaven. SERMON lY. THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHRIST. "The blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things than that of Abel." — Hebeews, xii. 24. Of all substances blood is the most mysterious, aod in some senses the most sacred. Scripture teacheth us — and after all there is very much philosophy in Sci'ipture — that " the blood is the life" — that the life lieth in the blood. Blood, there- fore, is the mysterious link between matter and spirit. How it is that the soul should in any degree have an alliance with matter through blood, we can not understand ; but certain it is that this is the mysterious link which unites these apparently dissimilar things together, so that the soul can inhabit the body, and the life can rest in the blood. God has attached awful sacredness to the shedding of blood. Under the Jewish dispensation, even the blood of animals was considered as sacred. Blood might never be eaten by the Jews ; it was too sacred a thing to become the food of man. The Jew was scarcely allowed to kill his own food : certainty he must not kill it except he poured out the blood as a sacred offering to Almighty God. Blood was accepted by God as the symbol of the atonement. " Without shedding of blood there is no remission" of sin, because, I take it, blood hath such an affinity with Hfe, that inasmuch as God would accept nought but blood, he signified that there must be a life offered to him, and that his great and glorious Son must surrender his life as a sacrifice for his sheep. Now, we have in our text "blood" mentioned — twofold blood. We have the blood of murdered Abel, and the blood of murdered Jesus. We have also two things in the text : — a comparison between tJie blood of sprinkling^ and tlie blood of 66 THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHRIST. Ahel y and then a certain condition mentioned. Rather, if we read the whole verse in order to get its meaning, we find that the righteous are spoken of as coming to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things than the blood of Abel ; so that the condition which will constitute the second part of our discourse, is coming to that blood of sprinkliiig for our salvation and glory. I. Without farther preface I shall at once introduce to you the CONTRAST AND COMPARISON I^IPLIED IN THE TEXT. " The blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things than that of Abel." I confess I was very much- astonished, when look- ing at Dr. Gill and Albert Barnes, and several of the more eminent commentators, while studying this passage, to find that they attach a meaning to this verse which had never oc- curred to me before. They say that the meaning of the verse is not that the blood of Christ is superior to the blood of mur- dered Abel, although that is certainly a truth, but that the sacrifice of the blood of Christ is better, and speaketh better things than the sacrifice which Abel ofiered. Now, although I do not think this is the meaning of the text, and I have my reasons for believing that the blood here contrasted with that of our Saviour, is the blood of the murdered man Abel, yet on lookirfg to the original there is so much to be said on both sides of the question, that I think it fair in explaining the pas- sage to give you both the meanings. They are not conflict- ing interpretations ; there is indeed a shade of difiference between them, but still they amount to the same idea. First, then, we may understand here a comparison between the offerings Abel presented, and the offerings Jesus Christ presented, when he gave his blood to be a ransom for the flock. Let me describe Abel's offering. I have no doubt Adam had from the very first of his expulsion from the garden of Eden offered a sacrifice to God ; and we have some dim hint that this sacrifice was of a beast, for we find that the Lord God made Adam and Eve skins of beasts to be their clothing, and it is probable that those skins were procured by the slaughter of victims offered in sacrifice. However, that is but THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHEIST. 67 a dim hint : the first absolute record that we have of an obla- tory sacrifice is the record of the sacrifice oftered by Abel. Now, it appears that very early there was a distinction among men. Cain wasthe representative of the seed of the serpent, and Abel was the representative of the seed of the woman. Abel was God's elect, and Cain was one of those who rejected the Most High. However, both Cain and Abel united together in the out- ward service of God. They both of them brought on a cer- tain high day a sacrifice. Cain took a difierent view of the matter of sacrifice from that which presented itself to the mind of Abel. Cain was proud and haughty : he said, " I am ready to confess that the mercies which we receive from the soil are the gift of God, but I am not ready to acknowledge that I am a guilty sinner, deserving God's wrath ; therefore," said he, " I will bring nothing but the fruit of the ground." " Ah, but," said Abel, " I feel that while I ought to be grate- ful for temporal mercies, at the same time I have sins to con- fess, I have iniquities to bo pardoned, and I know that with- out shedding of blood there is no remission of sin ; therefore," said he, " O Cain, I will not be content to bring an offering of the ground, of the ears of corn, or of first ripe fruits, but I will bring of the firstlings of my flock, and I will shed blood upon the altar, because my faith is, that there is to come a great Victim who is actually to make atonement for the sins of men, and by the slaughter of this lamb, I express my solemn faith in him." Not so Cain ; he cared nothing for Christ ; he was not wilhng to confess his sin ; he had no objection to pre- sent a thank-offering, but a sin-oflfering he would not bring. He did not mhid bringing to God that which he thought might be acceptable as a return for favors received, but he would not bring to God an acknowledgment of his guilt, or a confession of his inability to make atonement for it, except by the blood of a substitute. Cain, moreover, when he came to the altar, came entirely without faith. He piled the unhewn stones, as Abel did, he laid his sheaves of corn upon the altar, and there he waited, but it vas to him a matter of compara- tive indiflSerence whether God accepted him or not. He be- lieved there was a God, doubtless, but he had no faith in the 68 THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHRIST. promises of that God. God had said that the seed of the woman should bruise the serpent's head — that was the gospel as revealed to our first parents ; but Cain had no belief in that gospel — whether it were true or not, he cared not — it was sufficient for him that he acquired enough for his own sustenance from the soil ; he had no faith. But holy Abel stood by the side of the altar, and while Cain the infidel per- haps laughed and jeered at his sacrifice, he boldly presented there the bleeding lamb, as a testimony to all men, both of that time and all future times, that he believed in the seed of the woman — that he looked for him to come who should destroy the serpent, and restore the ruins of the fall. Do you see holy Abel, standing there, ministering as a priest at God's altar ? Do you see the flush of joy which comes over his face, when he sees the heavens opened, and the living fire of God descend upon the victim? Do you note with what a grateful expression of confident faith he lifts to heaven his eye which had been before filled with tears, and cries, " I thank thee O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast ac- cepted my sacrifice, inasmuch as I presented it through faith in the blood of thy Son, my Saviour, who is to come." Abel's sacrifice, being the first on record, and being offered in the teeth of opposition, has very much in it which puts it ahead of many other of the sacrifices of the Jews. Abel is to be greatly honored for his confidence and faith in the com- ing Messiah. But compare for a moment the sacrifice of Christ with the sacrifice of Abel, and the sacrifice of Abel shrinks into insignificance. What did Abel bring ? He brought a sacrifice which showed the necessity of blood-shed- ding, but Christ brought the blood-shedding itself. Abel taught the world by his sacrifice that he looked for a victim, but Christ brought the actual victim. Abel brought but the type and the figure, the lamb which was but a picture of the Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of the world ; but Christ was that Lamb. He was the substance of the shadow, the reahty of the type. Abel's sacrifice had. no merit in it apart from the faith in the Messiah with which he presented it J but Christ's sacrifice had merit of itself; it was in itself THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OP CHRIST. 69 meritorious. What was the blood of Abel's lamb ? It was nothing but the blood of a common lamb that might have been shed anywhere ; except that he had faith in Christ the blood of the lamb was but as water, a contemptible thing ; but the blood of Christ was a sacrifice indeed, richer far than all the blood of beasts that ever were offered upon the altar of Abel, or the altar of all the Jewish high priests. We may- say of all the sacrifices that were ever offered, however costly they might be, and however acceptable to God, though they were rivers of oil and tens of thousands of fat beasts, yet they were less than nothing, and contemptible, in comparison with the one sacrifice which our high priest hath offered once for all, whereby he hath eternally perfected them that are sanctified. We have thus found it very easy to set forth the difference between the blood of Christ's sprinkling and the blood which Abel sprinkled. But now I take it that there is a deeper meaning than this, despite what some commentators have said. I believe that the allusion hero is to the blood of the murdered Abel. Cain smote Abel, and doubtless his hands and the altar were stained with the blood of him who had acted as a priest. " Now," says our apostle, " that blood of Abel spoke." We have evidence that it did, for God said to Cain, " The voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground ;" and the apostle's comment upon that in another place is — " By faith Abel offered unto God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain, by which he obtained witness that he was righteous, God testifying of his gifts, and by it he being dead yet speaketh ;" speaketh through his blood, his blood crying unto God from the ground. Now, Christ's blood speaks too. What is the difterence between the two voices ? — for we are told in the text that it " speaketh better tilings than that of Abel." Abel's blood spoke in a threefold manner. It spoke in heaven ; it spoke to the sons of men ; it spoke to the con- science of Cain. The blood of Christ speaks in a like three- fold manner, and it speaks better things. Firet, the blood of Abel spoke in heaven. Abel was a holy man, and all that Cain could bring against him was, " His own works were evil, and his brother's were righteous." You see 70 THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OP OHEIST. the brothers going to the sacrifice together. Yoii mark the black scowl upon the brow of Cain, when Abel's sacrifice is accepted, while his remains untouched by the sacred fire. You note how they begin to talk together — how quietly Abel argues the question, and how ferociously Cain denounces him. You note again how God speaks to Cain, and warns him of the evil which he knew was in his heart ; and you see Cain, as he goes from the presence chamber of the Most High, warned and forewarned, but yet with the dreadful thought in his heart that he will imbrue his hands in his brother's blood. He meets his brother ; he talks friendly with him ; he gives him, as it were, the kiss of Judas ; he entices him into the field where he is alone ; he takes him unawares ; he smites him, and smites him yet again, till there lies the murdered, bleeding corpse of his brother. O earth ! earth ! earth ! cover not his blood. This is the first murder thou hast ever seen, the first blood of man that ever stained thy soil. Hark ! there is a cry heard in heaven ; the angels are astonished ; they rise up from their golden seats, and they inquire, " What is that cry ?" God looketh upon them, and he saith, " It is the cry of blood ; a man hath been slain by his fellow ; a brother by him who came from the bowels of the self-same mother has been mur- dered in cold blood, through malice. One of my saints has been murdered, and here he comes." And Abel entered into heaven, blood-red, the first of God's elect who had entered Paradise, and the first of God's children who had worn the blood-red crown of martyrdom. And then the cry was heard, loud and clear and strong; and thus it spake— "Revenge! revenge ! revenge !" And God himself, upstarting from his throne, summoned the culprit to his presence ; questioned him, condemned him out of his own mouth, and made him hence- forth a fugitive and a vagabond, to wander over the surface of the earth, which was to be sterile henceforth to his plow. And now, beloved, just contrast with this the blood of Christ. That is Jesus Christ, the incarnate Son of God ; he hangs upon a tree ; he is murdered — murdered by his own brethren. " He came unto his own, and his own received him not, but his own led him out to death." He bleeds ; he dies ; THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHEIST. 71 and then is heard a cry in heaven. The astonished angels again start from their seats, and they say, " What is this ? What is this cry that we hear ?" And the mighty Maker answers yet again, "It is the cry of blood; it is the cry of the blood of my only-begotten and well-beloved Son !" And God, uprising from his throne, looks down from heaven and listens to the cry. And what is the cry ? It is not revenge ; but the voice crieth, " Mercy ! mercy ! mercy !" Did you not hear it ? It said, " Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Herein, the blood of Christ " speaketh better things than that of Abel ;" for Abel's blood said, " Re- venge !" and made the sword of God start from its scabbard ; but Christ's blood cried " Mercy !" and sent the sword back again, and bade it sleep for ever. " Blood hath a voice to pierce the skies ; ' Revenge ! ' the blood of Abel cries ; But the rich blood of Jesus slain, Breathes peace as loud from every vein." You will note too that Abel's blood cried for revenge upon one man only — upon Cain ; it required the death of but one man to satisfy for it, namely, the death of the murderer. " Blood for blood !" The murderer must die the death. But what saith Christ's blood in heaven ? Does it speak for only one ? Ah ! no, beloved ; " the free gift hath come upon many." Christ's blood cries mercy ! mercy ! mercy ! not on one, but upon a multitude whom no man can number — ten thousand times ten thousand. Again ; Abel's blood cried to heaven for revenge, for one transgression of Cain ; that for aught that Cain had done, worth- less and vile before, the blood of Abel did not demand any revenge ; it was for the one sin that blood clamored at the throne of God, and not for many sins. Not so the voice of the blood of Christ. It is " for many oflfenses unto justifica- tion." Oh ! could ye hear that cry, that all-prevaihng cry, as now it comes up from Calvary's summit — "Father, forgive them .'" not one, but many. " Father, forgive them." And not only forgive them this offense, but forgive them all their 72 THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHRIST. sins, and blot out all their iniquities. Ah ! beloved, we might have thought that the blood of Christ would have demanded vengeance at the hands of God. Surely, if Abel be revenged sevenfold, then must Christ be revenged seventy times seven. If the earth would not swallow up the blood of Abel till it had had its fill, surely we might have thought that the earth never would have covered the corpse of Christ, until God had struck the world with fire and sword, and banished all men to destruction. But, O precious blood ! thou sayest not one word of vengeance ! All that this blood cries is peace ! par- don! forgiveness! mercy! acceptance! Truly it "speaketh better things than that of Abel." Again ; Abel's blood had a second voice. It spoke to the whole world. " He being dead yet speaketh" — not only in heaven, but on earth. God's prophets are a speaking people. They speak by their acts and by their words as long as they live, and when they are buried they speak by their example which they have left behind. Abel speaks by his blood to us. And what does it say ? Whea Abel ofiered up his victim upon the altar he said to us, " I believe in a sacrifice that is to be oflei'ed for the sins of men ;" but when Abel's own blood was sprinkled on the altar he seemed to say, " Here is the ratification of my faith ; I seal my testimony with my own blood ; you have now the evidence of my sincerity, for I was prepared to die for the defense of this truth which I now witness unto you." It was a great thing for Abel thus to ratify his testimony with his blood. We should not have believed the martyrs half so easily if they had not been ready to die for their profession. The gospel in ancient times would never have spread at such a marvelous rate, if it had not been that all the preachers of the gospel were ready at any time to attest their message with their own blood. But Christ's blood " speaketh better things than that of Abel." Abel's blood ratified his testimony, and Christ's blood has ratified his testi- mony too ; but Christ's testimony is better than that of Abel. For what is the testimony of Christ ? The covenant of grace — that everlasting covenant. He came into this world to tell us that God had from the beginning chosen his people — that THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OP CHRIST. 73 he had ordained them to eternal life, and that he had made a covenant with his Son Jesns Christ that if he would pay the price they should go free — if he would suifer in their stead they should be delivered. And Christ cried — 'ere he "bowed his head and gave up the ghost" — " It is finished." The cove- nant purpose is finished. That purpose was " to finish the transgression, and to make an end of sins, and to make recon- ciliation for iniquity, and to bring in everlasting righteous- ness." Such was the testimony of our Lord Jesus Christ, as his own blood gushed from his heart, to be the die-stamp and seal that the covenant was ratified. When I see Abel die I know that his testimony was true ; but when I see Christ die I know that the covenant is true. " This covenant, believer, stands Thj rising fears to quell ; 'Tis signed and sealed and ratified, In all things ordered well" When he bowed his head and gave up the ghost, he did as much as say, "All things arc made sure unto the seed by my giving myself a victim." Come, saint, and see the covenant all blood-bestained, and know that it is sure. He is "the faithful and true witness, the prince of the kings of the earth." First of martyrs, my Lord Jesus, thou hadst a better testimony to witness than they all, for thou hast witnessed to the ever- lasting covenant ; thou hast witnessed that thou art the shep- herd and bishop of souls ; thou hast witnessed to the putting away of sin by the sacrifice of thyself. Again : I say, come, ye people of God, and read over the golden roll. It begins in election — it ends in everlasting life, and all this the blood of Christ crieth in your ears. All this is true ; for Christ's blood proves it to be true, and to be sure to all the seed. It "speaketh better things than that of Abel." Now we come to the third voice ; for the blood of Abel had a threefold sound. It spoke in the conscience of Cain. Hard-' ened though he was, and like a very devil in his sin, yet he was not so deaf in his conscience that ho could not hear the voice of blood. The first thing that Abel's blood said to Cain was 74 THE VOICE OP THE BLOOD OP CHRIST. this : "Ah ! guilty wretch, to spill thy brother's blood !" As he saw it trickling from the wound and flowing down in streams, he looked at it, and as the sun slione on it, and the red glare came into his eye, it seemed to say, "Ah ! cursed wretch, for the son of thine own mother thou hast slain. Thy wrath was vile enough, when thy countenance fell, but to rise up against thy brother and take away his life, oh ! how vile !" It seemed to say to him, " What had he done that thou shouldst take his life ? Wherein had he offended thee ? Was not his con- duct blameless, and his conversation pure? If thou hadst smitten a villain or a thief, men might not have blamed thee ; but this blood is pure, clean, perfect blood ; how couldst thou kill such a man as this?" And Cain put liis hand across his brow, and felt there was a sense of guilt there that he had never felt before. And then the blood said to him again, " Why, whither wilt thou go ? Thou shalt be a vagabond as long as thou livest." A cold chill ran through him, and he said, "Whosoever findeth me will kill me." And though God promised him he should live, no doubt he was always afraid. If he saw a company of men together, he would hide himself in a thicket, or if in his solitary wanderings he saw a man at a distance, he started back, and sought to bury his head, so that none should observe him. In the stillness of the night he started up in his dreams. It was but his wife that slept by his side ; but he thought he felt some one's hands griping his throat, and about to take away his life. Then he would sit up in his bed and look around at the grim shadows, thinking some fiend was haunting him and seeking after him. Then, as he rose to go about his business, he trembled. He trembled to be alone, he trembled to be in company. When he was alone he seemed not to be alone ; the ghost of his brother seemed staring him in the face ; and when he was in company he dreaded the voice of men, for he seemed to think every one cursed him, and he thought every one knew the crime he had committed, and no doubt they did, and every man shunned him. No one would take his hand, for it was red with blood, and his very child upon his knee was afraid to look up into his father's face, for there was the mark wdiich THE TOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHRIST. 75 God had set upon him. His very wife conld scarcely speak to him — for she was afraid that from the lips of him who had been cursed of God some curse might fall on her. The very earth cursed him. He no sooner put his foot upon the ground, than where it had been a garden before it sudd^^nly turned into a desert, and the fair rich soil became hardened into an arid rock. Guilt, like a grim chamberlain, with fingers bloody red, did draw the curtain of his bed each night. His crime refused him sleep. It spoke in his heart, and the walls of his memory reverberated the dying cry of his murdered brother. And no doubt that blood spoke one more thing to Cain. It said, " Cain, although thou raayest now be spared, there is no hope for thee ; thou art a man accursed on earth, and accursed for ever ; God hath condemned thee here, and he will damn thee hereafter." And so wherever Cain went, he never found hope. Though he searched for it in the mountain top, yet he found it not there. Hope that was left to all men, was denied to him : a hopeless, houseless, helpless vagabond, he vjandered up and down the surface of the earth. Oh ! Abel's blood had a terrible voice indeed. But now see the sweet change as ye listen to the blood of Christ. It "speaketh better things than that of Abel." Friend ! hast thou ever heard the blood of Christ in thy con- science ? I have, and I thank God I ever heard that sweet soft voice. " Once a sinner near despair, Sought the mercy-seat by prayer." He prayed : he thought he w^as praying in vam. No tears gushed from his eyes ; his heart was heavy within him ; he sought, but he found no mercy. Again, again, and yet again, he besieged the throne of heavenly grace and knocked at mercy's door. Oh ! who can tell the mill-stone that lay upon his beating heart, and the iron that did cat into his soul. He was a prisoner in sore bondage ; deep, as he thought, in the pondage of despair was he chained, to perish for ever. That prisoner one day heard a voice, which said to him, " Away, away, to Calvary !" Yet he trembled at the voice, for he said, " Why should I go thither, for there my blackest sin was Y6 THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHKIST. committed ; there I murdered the Saviour by my transgres- sions ? Why should I go to see the murdered corpse of him who became my brother born for adversity ?" But mercy beckoned, and she said, " Come, come away, sinner !" And the sinner followed. The chains were on his legs and on his hands, and he could scarcely creep along. Still the black vul- ture Destruction seemed hovering in the air. But he crept as best he could, till he came to the foot of the hill of Calvary. On the summit he saw a cross ; blood was distilling from the hands, and from the feet, and from the side ; and Mercy touched his ears and said, " Listen !" and he heard that blood speak ; and as it spoke the first thing it said was, " Love !" And the second thing it said was, " Mercy !" The third thing it said was, "Pardon." The next thing it said was, "Acceptance." The next thing it said was, "Adoption." The next thing it said was, " Security." And the last thing it whispered was, *' Heaven." And as the sinner heard the voice, he said within himself, " And does that blood speak to me ?" And the Spirit said, " To thee — to thee it speaks." And he listened, and oh what music did it seem to his poor troubled heart, for in a moment all his doubts were gone. He had no sense of guilt. He knew that he was vile, but he saw that his vileness was all washed away; he knew that he was guilty, but he saw his guilt all atoned for, through that precious blood that was flowing there. He had been full of dread before: he dreaded life, he dreaded death ; but now he had no dread at all; a joy- ous confidence took possession of his heart. He looked to Christ, and he said, " I know that my Redeemer liveth ;" he clasped the Saviour in his arms, and he began to sing — '* Oh I confident am I ; for this blessed blood was shed for me." And then Despair fled and Destruction was driven clean away ; and instead thereof came the bright white-winged angel of Assur- ance, and she dwelt in his bosom, saying evermore to him, "Thou art accepted in the Beloved : thou art chosen of God and precious : thou art his child now, and thou shalt be his favorite throughout eternity." " The blood of Christ speaketh better things than that of Abel." And now I must have you notice that the blood of Christ THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHEIST. 77 bears a comj^ariso?! with the blood of Abel in one or two re- spects, but it excelleth in them all. The blood of Abel cried " Justice !" It was but right that the blood should be revenged. Abel had no private pique against Cain ; doubtless could Abel have done so, he would have forgiven his brother ; but the blood spoke justly, and only- asked its due when it shouted " Vengeance ! vengeance ! ven- geance !" And Christ's blood speaketh justly, when it saith, " Mercy !" Christ has as much right to demand mercy upon sinners, as Abel's blood had to cry vengeance against Cain. When Christ saves a sinner, he does not save him on the sly, or against law or justice, but he saves him justly. Christ has a light to save whom he will save, to have mercy on whom he will have mercy, for he can do it justly, he can be just, and yet be the justifier of the ungodly. Again ; Abel's blood cried effectively. It did not cry in vain. It said, " Revenge !" and revenge it had. And Christ's.blood, blessed be his name, never cries in vain. It saith, " Pardon ;" and pardon every believer shall have ; it saith, " Acceptance," and every penitent is accepted in the Beloved. If that blood cry for me, I know it can not cry in vain. That all-prevailing blood of Christ shall never miss its due ; it must, it shall bo heard. Shall Abel's blood startle heaven, and shall not the blood of Christ reach the ears of the Lord God of Sabaoth ? And again, Abel's blood cries continually ; there is the mercy- seat, and there is the cross, and the blood is dropping on the mercy-seat. I have sinned a sin. Chnst says, " Father, for- give him." There is one drop. I sin again : Christ intercedes again. There is another drop. In fact, it is the drop that in- tercedes. Christ need not speak with his mouth ; the drops of blood, as they fall upon the mercy-scat, each seemeth to say, " Forgive him ! forgive him ! forgive him !" Dear friend, when thou hearest the voice of conscience, stop and try to hear the voice of the blood too. Oh ! what a precious thing it is to hear the voice of the blood of Christ. You who do not know what that means, do not know the very essence and joy of life ; but you who understand that, can say, " The dropping of the blood is like the music of heaven 78 THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OP CHRIST. upon earth." Poor sinner! I would ask thee to come and listen to that voice that distills upon thy ears and upon thy heart to-day. Thou art full of sin ; the Saviour bids thee lift thine eyes to him. See there, his blood is flowing from his head, his hands, his feet, and evevy drop that falls still cries, " Father, O forgive them ! Father, O forgive them." And each drop seems to say also as it falls, " It is finished : I have made an end of sin, I have brought in everlasting righteous- ness." Oh ! sweet, sweet language of the dropping of the blood of Christ ! It " speaketh better things than that of Abel." II. Having thus, I trust, sufiiciently enlarged upon this sub- ject, I shall now close by addressing you with a few earnest words concerning the second point — the condition into WHICH EYEEY CHRISTIAN IS BROUGHT. He is Said to be " comc to the blood of sprinkhng." I shall make this a very brief matter, but a very solemn and pointed one. My hearers, have you come to the blood of Christ ? I do not ask you whether you have come to a knowledge of doctrine, or of an observ- ance of ceremonies, or of a certain form of experience; but I ask you if you have come to the blood of Christ. If you have, I know how you come. You must come to. the blood of Christ with no merits of your own. Guilty, lost, and help- less, you must come to that blood, and to that blood alone, for your hopes ; you come to the cross of Christ and to that blood too, I know, with a trembling and an aching heart. Some of you remember how you first came, cast down and full of de- spair ; but that blood recovered you. And this one thing I know : if you have come to that blood once, you will come to it every day. Your life will be just this — "looking unto Jesus." And your whole conduct will be epitomized in this — " to whom coming as unto a living stone." Not to whom I have come, but to whom I am always coming. If thou hast ever come to the blood of Christ thou wilt feel thy need of coming to it every day. He that does not desire to wash in that fountain every day, has never washed in it at all. I feel it every day to be my joy and my privilege that tliere is still a fountain opened. I trust I came to Christ years ago ; but ah ! THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHRIST. Y9 I could not trust to that, unless I could come again to-day. Past experiences are doubtful things to a Chi'istian ; it is pres- ent coming to Christ that must give us joy and comfort. Did you not, some of you, sing, twenty years ago, that hymn, *' My faith doth lay her hand On that dear head of thine, WTiile like a penitent I stand, And there confess my sin ?" Why, beloved, you can sing it as well to-day as you did then. I was reading the other day some book, in which the author states, that we are not to come to Christ as sinners as long as we live ; he says we are to grow into saints. Ah ! he did not know much, I am sure ; for saints are sinners still, and they have always to come to Christ as sinners. If ever I go to the throne of God as a saint, I get repulsed ; but when I go just as a poor, humble, seeking sinner, relying upon nothing but thy blood, O Jesus, I never can get a repulse, I am sure. To whom coming as unto " blood that speaketh better things than that of Abel." Let this be our experience every day. But there are some here who confess that they never did come. I can not exhort you, then, to come every day, but I exhort you to come now for the first time. But you say, *' May I come ?" Yes, if thou art wishing to come thou may- est come ; if thou feelest that thou hast need to come thou mayest come. " AU the fitness he requireth. Is to feel your need of him :" And even " This he gives you, 'Tis his Spirit's rising beam," But you say, " I must bring some merits." Hark to the blood that speaks ! It says, " Sinner, I am full of merits : why bring thy merits here?" "Ah! but," thou sayest, "I have too much sin." Hark to the blood : as it falls, it cries, " Of many offenses unto justification of life." "Ah! but," thou sayest, " I know I am too guilty." Hark to the blood ! " Though your sins be as scarlet I will make them as wool ; though they 80 THE VOICE OP THE BLOOD OF CHEIST. be red like crimson they shall he whiter than snow." " N'ay," says one, " hut I have such a poor desire, I have such a little faith." Hark to the blood ! " The bruised reed I will not break, and smoking flax I will not quench." " ^iiy, but," thou sayest, "I know he will cast me out if I do come." Hark to the blood ! " All that the Father giveth me shall come to me, and him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out." "Nay, but," sayest thou, "I know I have so many sins that I can not be forgiven." N'ow, hear the blood once more, and I have done. " The blood of Jesus Christ, his Son, cleanseth us from all sin." That is the blood's testimony, and its testimony to thee. " There are three that bear witness on earth, the Spirit, and the water, and the blood;" and behold the blood's witness is — "The blood of Jesus Christ, his Son, cleanseth us from all sin." Come, poor sinner, cast thyself simply on that truth. Away with your good works and all your trustings ! Lie simply flat on that sweet word of Christ. Trust his blood ; and if thou canst put thy trust alone in Jesus, in his sprinkled blood, it shall speak in thy conscience better things than that of Abel. I am afraid there are many who do not know what we mean by believing. Good Dr. Chalmers once visiting a poor old woman, told her to believe in Christ, and she said, " But that is just the thing I do not know wh^t you mean by." So Dr. Chalmers said, " Trust Christ." ISTow, that is just the mean- ing of believing. Trust him with your soul ; trust him with your sins; trust him with the future ; trust him with the past ; trust him with every thing. Say, " A guilty, weak, and worthless worm, On Christ's kind arms I fall ; Be thou my strength and righteousness, My Jesus and my all." May the Lord now give you his blessing ; for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. SERMOK V. THE NEW HEART. " A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you ; and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh." — ^Ezekiel, xxxvi. 26. Behold a wonder of divine love. When God naaketh his creatures, one creation he rcgardeth as sufficient, and should they lapse from the condition in which he has created them, he suffers them, as a rule, to endure the penalty of their trans- gression, and to abide in the place into which they are fallen. But here he makes an exception ; man, fallen man, created by his Maker, pure and holy, hath wilfully and wickedly rebelled against the Most High, and lost his first estate, but behold, he is to be the subject of a new creation through the power of God's Holy Spirit. Behold this and wonder ! What is man compared with an angel ? Is he not little and insignificant ? "And the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, he hath reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgment of the great day." God hath no mercy upon them ; he made them pure and holy, and they ought to have remained so, but inasmuch as they wilfully re- belled, he cast them down from their shining seats forever ; and without a single promise of mercy, he hath bound them fast in the fetters of destiny, to abide in eternal torment. But wonder, ye heavens, the God who destroyed the angels stoops from his highest throne in glory, and speaks to his creature man, and thus saith unto him — " Now, thou hast fallen from me even as the angels did ; thou hast grossly erred, and gone astray from ray ways — not for thy sake do I this, but for mine own name's sake — behold I will undo the mischief which thine own hand hath done : I will take away that heart which has 4* 82 THE NEW HEART. rebelled against me. Having made thee once, thou hast un- made thyself — I will make thee over again. I will put my hand a second time to the work ; once more shalt thou revolve upon the potter's wheel, and I will make thee a vessel of honor, fit for my gracious use. I will take away thy stony heart, and give thee a heart of flesh ; a new heart will I give thee ; a new spirit will I put within thee." Is not this a won- der of divine sovereignty and of infinite grace, that mighty angels should be cast into the fire forever, and yet God hath made a covenant with man that he will renew and restore him ? And now^, my dear friends, I shall attempt this morning, first of all, to show the necessity for the great promise contained in my text^ that God will give us a new heart and a new spirit ; and after that, I shall endeavor to show the nature of the great woric which God worJcs in the soul, when he accomplishes this proinise ; afterwards, a feio personal remarks to all my hearers. I. In the first j^lace, it is my business to endeavor to show THE NECESSITY FOR THIS GREAT PROMISE. Not that it Uecds any showing to the quickened and enlightened Christian ; but this is for the conviction of the ungodly, and for the humbhng of our carnal pride. O that this morning the gracious Spirit may teach us our depravity, that we may thereby be driven to seek the fulfilment of this mercy, which is most assuredly and abundantly necessary, if we would be saved. You will notice that in my text God does not promise to us that he will improve our nature, that he will mend our broken hearts. No, the promise is that he will give us new hearts and right spirits. Human nature is too far gone ever to be mended. It is not a house that is a little out of repair, with here and there a slate blown from the roof, and here and there a piece of plaster broken down from the ceiling. No, it is rotten throughout, the very foundations have been sapped ; there is not a single timbci- in it which has not been eaten by the worm, from its uppermost roof to its lowest foundation ; there is no soundness in it ; it is all rottenness and ready to fall. God doth not attempt to mend ; he does not shore up the walls, and re-paint THE NETT HEART. 83 the door ; he does not garnish and beautify, but he determines that the old house shall be entirely swept away, and that he will build a new one. It is too flir gone, I say, to be mended. If it were only a little out of repair, it might be mended. If only a wheel or two of that great thing called "manhood" were out of repair, then he who made man might put the whole to rights ; he might put a new cog where it had been broken off, and another wheel where it had gone to ruin, and the machine might work anew. But no, the whole of it is out of repair ; there is not one lever which is not broken ; not one axle which is not disturbed ; not one of the wheels which act upon the others. The whole head is sick, and the whole heart is faint. From the sole of the foot, to the crown of the head, it is all wounds and bruises and putrifying sores. The Lord, therefore, does not attempt the repairing of this thing ; but he says, " I will give you a new heart, and a right spirit will I put within you ; I will take away the heart of stone, I will not try to soften it, I will let it be as stony as ever it w^as, but I will take it away, and I will give you a new heart, and it shall be a heart of flesh." Now I shall endeavor to show that God is justified in this, and that there was an abundant necessity for his resolution to to do so. For in the first place, if you consider what human na- ture has been, and what it is, you will not be very long before you will say of it, " Ah, it is a hopeless case indeed." Consider, then, for a moment how bad human nature must be if we think how ill it has treated its God. I remember William Huntingdon says in his autobiography, that one of the sharpest sensations of pain that he felt after he had been quickened by divine grace was this, *' He felt such pity for God." I do not know that I ever met with the expression elsewhere, but it is a very expressive one ; although I might prefer to say sympathy with God and grief that he should bo so evil entreated. Ah, my friends, there are manyjnen that are forgotten, that are despised, and that are trampled on by their fellows ; but there never was a man who was so despised as the everlasting God has been. Many a man has been slan- dered and abused, but never was man abused as God has been* 84 THE NEW HEAET. Many have been treated cruelly and ungratefully, but never one was treated as our God has been. Let us look back upon our past lives — how ungrateful have we been to him ! It was he who gave us being, and the first utterance of our lips should have been in his praise ; and sodong as we were here, it was our duty to have perpetually sung his glory ; but instead of that, from our birth we spoke that which was false and un- true, and unholy ; and since then we have continued to do the isame. "We have never returned his mercies into his bosom with gratitude and thankfulness ; but we have let them lie for- gotten without a single hallelujah, from our carelessness con- cerning the Most High, that he had entirely forgotten us, and that therefore v/e were trying to forget him. It is so very sel- dom that we think of him that one would imagine that surely he never gave us occasion to think of him. Addison said, — " When all thy mercies, my God, My rising soul surveys, Transported with the view I'm lost In wonder, love, and praise." But I think if we look back with the eye of penitence we shall be lost in wonder, shame, and grief, for our cry will be, " What ! could I treat so good a friend so ill ? Have I had so gracious a benefactor, and have I been so unmindful of him ; and so devoted a fiither, and yet have I never embraced him ? Have I never given him the kiss of my affectionate gratitude ? Have I never studied to do something whereby I might let him know that I was conscious of his kindness, and that I felt a grateful return in my bosom for his love ?" But worse than this, we have not only been forgetful of him, but we have rebelled against him. We have assailed the Most High. If we knew that anything was God-like we hated it at once ; we have despised his people, we have called them cants, and hypocrites, and Methodists. We have despised his day ; he set it apart on purpose for our good, and that day we take for our own pleasure and our own labor instead of conse- crating it to him. He gave us a book as a love-token, and he desired us to read it, for it was full of love to us ; and we have kept it fast closed till the very spiders have spun their cobwebs THE NEW HEART. 86 over the leaves. He opened a house of prayer and bade us go there, and there would he meet with us and speak to us from off the mercy seat ; but we have often preferred the theatre to God's house, and have been found listening to any sound rather than the voice which speaketh from heaven. Ah, my friends, I say again there never was a man treated by his fellow-creatures, even by the worst of men, so bad as God has been, and yet while men have been ill treating him, he has still continued to bless them ; he has put breath into the nostrils of man, even while he has been cursing him ; has given him food to eat even while he has been spending the strength of his body in warfare against the Most High ; and on the very Sabbath, when you have been breaking his com- mandment and spending the day on your own lusts, it is he who has given light to your eyes, breath to your lungs, and strength to your nerves and sinews ; blessing you even while you have been cursing him. Oh! it is a mercy that he is God, and changeth not, or else we sons of Jacob would long ago have been consumed, and justly too. You may picture to yourselves, if you like, a poor creature dying in a ditch. I trust that such a thing never happens in this land, but such a thing might happen as a man who had been rich on a sudden becoming poor, and all his friends de- serting and leaving him ; he begs for bread and no man will help him, until at last, without a rag to cover him, his poor body yields up life in a ditch. This, I think, is the very ex- treme of human negligence to mankind ; but Jesus Christ, the Son of God, was treated even worse than this. It would have been a thousand mercies to him if they had permitted him to die unregarded in a ditch ; but that would have been too good for human nature. He must know the very worst, and there- fore God allowed human nature to take Christ and nail him to the tree. He allowed it to stand and mock his thirst and offer him vinegar, and taunt and jeer him in the extreme of his ago> nios ; it allowed human nature to make him its jest and scorn, and stand staring with lascivious and cruel eyes upon liis stripped and naked body. Oh ! shnme on manhood : never could there have been a 86 THE NEW HEART. creature worse than man. The very beasts are better than man, for man has all the worst attributes of the beasts and none of their best. He has the fierceness of the lion without its nobility ; he has the stubbornness of an ass without its pa- tience ; he has all the devouring gluttony of the wolfj without the wisdom which bids it avoid the trap. He is a carrion vul- ture but he is never satisfied ; he is a very serpent with the poison of asps beneath his tongfle, but he spits his venom afar off as well as nigh. Ah, if you think of human nature as it acts tow\irds God, you will say indeed it is too bad to be mended, it must be made anew. Again, there is another aspect in which we may regard the sinfulness of human nature : that is its pride. It is the very worst phase of man — that he is so proud. Beloved, pride is woven into the very warp and woof of our nature, and we shall never get rid of it until we are wrapped in our winding sheet. It is astonishing, that when we are at our prayers — when we try to make use of humble expressions, we are be- trayed into pride. It was but the other day, I found myself on my knees making use of such an expression as this : " O Lord, I grieve before thee, that ever Z should have been such a sinner as I have been. Oh that i" should ever have revolted and rebelled as I have done." There was pride in that ; for who am I ? Was there any wonder in it ? I ought to have known that I was myself so sinful that there was no wonder that I should have gone astray. The wonder was, that I had not been even worse, and there the credit was due to God, not to myself. So that when we are trying to be humble, we may be foolishly rushing into pride. What a strange thing it is to see a sinful, guilty wretch proud of his morality ! and yet that is a thing you may see every day. A man who is an enemy to God, proud of his honesty, and yet h^ is robbing God ; a man proud of his chastity, and yet if he knev»^ his own thoughts, they are full of lasciviousness and uncleanness ; a man pi-oud of the praise of his fellows, while he knows himself that he has the blame of his own conscience and the blame of God Almighty. It is a wild, strange thing to think that man should be proud, when he has nothing to be proud of. A living, ani- THE NEW HEART. 87 mated lump of clay — defiled and filthy, a living hell, and yet proud. I, a base-born son of one that robbed his Master's garden of old, and went astray and would not be obedient ; of one that sunk his whole estate for the paltry bribe of a sin- gle apple ! and yet proud of my ancestry I I, who am living on God's daily charity to be proud of my wealth ! when I have not a single farthing with which to bless myseUj unless God chooses to give it to me. I, that came naked into this world, and must go naked out of it ! I, proud of my riches — what a strange thing ! I, a wild ass's colt, a fool that knoweth noth- ing, proud of my learning ! Oh, what a strange thing, that the fool called man, should call himself a doctor, and make himself a master of all arts, when he is a master of none, and is most a fool when he thinks his wisdom culminates to its highest point. And oh, strangest of all, that man who has a deceitful heart^full of all manner of evil concupiscence, and adultery, idolatry, and lust, should yet talk about being a good- hearted fellow, and should pride himself upon having at least some good points about him, which may deserve the venera- tion of his fellows, if not some consideration from the Most High. Ah, human nature, this is, then, thine own condemna- tion, that thou art insanely j^roud, while thou hast nothing to be proud of. Write *' Ichabod" upon it. The glory has de- parted for ever from human nature. Let it be put away, and let God give us something new for the old can never be made better. It is helplessly insane, decrepit, and defiled. Furthermore, it is quite certain that human nature can not be made better, for many have tried it, but they have always failed. A man, trying to improve human nature, is like trying to change the position of a weathercock, by turning it round to the east when the wind is blowing west ; he has but to take his hand oflf and it will be back again to its place. So have I seen a man trying to restrain nature — he is an angry bad-tem- pered man, and ho is trying to cure himself a bit and he does, but it comes out, and if it does not burn right out, and the sparks do not fly abroad, yet it burns within his bones till they grow white with the heat of malice and there remains within his heart a residuum of the ashes of revenge. I have seen a 88 THE NEW HEART. man trying to make himself religious, and what a monstrosity he makes himself in trying to do it, for his legs are not equal, and he goes limping along in the service of God ; he is a de- formed and ungainly creature, and all who look at him can very soon discover the inconsistencies of his profession. Oh ! we say, it is vain for such a man to try to appear white, as well might the Ethiopian think he could make his skin appear white by applying cosmetics to it, or as well might the leopard think that his spots might be brushed away as for this man to imagine that he can conceal the baseness of his nature by any attempts at religion. Ah, I know I tried a long time to improve myself, but I never did make much of it ; I found I had a devil within me when I began, and I had ten devils when I left off. Instead of becoming better I became worse ; I had now got the devil of self-righteousness, of self-trust, and self conceit, and many others had come and taken up their lodging-place. While I was busy sweeping my house, and garnishing it, behold the one that I sought to get rid of, and which had only gone for a little season, returned and brought with him seven other spirits more wicked, than himself, and they entered in and dwelt there. Ah, you may try and reform, dear friends, but you will find you can not do it, and remember even if you could, still it would not be the work which God requires ; he will not have reformation, he will have renovation, he will have a new heart, and not a heart changed a little for the better. But, once again, you will easily perceive we must have a new heart when you consider what are the employments and the enjoyments of the Christian religion. The nature that can feed on the garbage of sin, and devour the carrion of ini- quity, is not the nature that ever can sing the praises of God and rejoice in his holy name. The raven yonder has been feeding on the most loathsome food, do you expect that she shall have all the kindliness of the dove and toy with the maiden in her bower. Not unless you could change the raven into a dove ; for as long as it is a raven its old propensities will cling to it and it will be incapable of any thing above the THE NEW HEART. 89 raven's nature. Ye have seen the vulture gorge to his very full with the very filthiest of flesh, and do you expect to see that vulture sitting on tlie spray singing God's praises with its hoarse screaming and croaking throat ? and do you imagine you will see it feeding like the barn-door fowl on the clean grain, unless its character and disposition be entirely changed ? Impossible. Can you imagine that the lion will he down with the ox, and eat straw like the bullock, so long as it is a lion ? Xo ; there must be a change. You may put on it the sheep's clothing but you can not make it a sheep unless the lion-hke nature be taken away. Try and improve the lion as long as ye like — Van Amburgh himself, if he had improved his lions for a thousand years, could nof have made them into sheep. And you may try to improve the raven or the vulture as long as you please, but you can not improve them into a dove — there must be a total change of character, and you ask me, then, whether it can be possible for a man that has sung the lascivious song of the drunkard, and has defiled his body with uncleanness, and has cursed God, to sing the high praises of God in heaven as well as he who has long loved the ways of purity and communion with Christ ? I answer, no, never, unless his nature be entirely changed. For if his nature remain what it is, improve it as you may, you can make nothing better of it. So long as his heart is what it is, you can never bring it to be capable of the high delights of the spiritual nature of the child of God. Therefore, beloved, there must assuredly be a new nature put into us. And yet once again, and I will have concluded upon this point. God hates a depraved nature, and therefore it must be taken away, before we can be accepted in him. God does not hate our sin so much as he does our sinfulness. It is not the overflowing of the spring, it is the well itself. It is not the arrow that doth shoot from the bow of om- depravity ; it > the arm itself that doth hold the bow of sin, and the mo- tive that wings the arrow against God. The Lord is angry not only against our overt acts, but against the nature which dictates the acts. God is not so short-sighted as merely to look at the surface, be looks at the source and fountaiu. He 90 THE NEW HEART. saith, " in vain shall it be, though thou shouldst make the fruit good, if the tree remain corrupt. In vain shalt thou attempt to sweeten the waters, so long as the fountain itself is defiled." God is angry with man's heart ; he has a hatred against man's dejoraved nature, and he will have it taken away, he will have it totally cleansed before he will admit that man into any communion wdth himself — and above all, into the sweet com munion of Paradise. There is, therefore, a demand for a new nature, and that we must have, or otherwise we can never see his face with acceptance. II. And now it shall be my joyful business to endeavor, in the second place, to set before you veiy briefly the nature OP THIS GREAT CHANGE VTHICH THE HoLY SpIRIT WORKS IN US. And, I may begin by observing, that it is a divine work from first to last. To give a man a new heart and a new spirit is God's work, and the work of God alone. Arminian- ism falls to the ground when we come to this point. Nothing will do here but that old-fashioned truth men call Calvinism. " Salvation is of t/ie Lord alone /" this truth will stand the test of ages and can never be moved, because it is the im- mutable truth of the living God. And all the way in salva- tion we have to learn this truth, but especially when we come here to this particular and indispensable part of salvation, the making of a new heart within us. That must be God's work; man may reform himself, but how can man give himself a new heart ? I need, not enlarge upon the thought, it will strike you in a moment, that the very nature of the change, and the terms in which it is mentioned here, put it beyond all power of man. How can man put into himself a new heart, for the heart being the motive power of all life, must exert itself before any thing can be done ? But how could the exertions of an old heart bring forth a new heart ? Can you imagine for a mo- ment a tree with a rotten heart, by its own vital energy giv- ing to itself a new young heart ? You can not suppose such a thing. If the heart were originally right, and the defects were only in some branch of the tree, you can conceive that the tree, through the vital power of its sap within its heart, THE NEW HEART. 91 might rectify the wrong. We have he»ird of some kind ot insects that have lost their limbs, and by their vital power have been able to recover them again. But take away the seat of the vital power — the heart ; lay the disease there ; and what power is there that can, by any possibility, rectify it, unless it be a power fi'om without — ^in fact, a power from above ? Oh, beloved, there never was a man yet, that did so much as the turn of a hair towards making himself a new heart. He must lie passive there — he shall become active afterwards — but in the moment when God puts a new life into the soul, the man is passive : and if there be aught of activity, it is an active resistance against it, until God, by overcoming, victorious grace, gets the mastery over man's will. Once, again ; this is a grcuiious change. When God puts a new heart into man, it is not because man deserves a new heart — because there was any thing good in his nature, that could have prompted God to give him a new spirit. The Lord simply gives a man a new heart because he wishes to do it ; that is his only reason. " But," you say, " suppose a man cries for a new heart ?" I answer, no man ever did cry for a new heart until he had got one ; for the cry for a new heart proves that there is a new heart there already. But, says one, " Are we not to seek for a right spirit ?" Yes, I know it is your duty — but I equally know it is a duty you will never ful- lill. You are commanded to make to yourselves new hearts, but I know you will never attempt to do it, until God first of all moves you thereunto. As soon as you begin to seek a new heart, it is presumptive evidence that the new heart is there already, in its germ, for there would not be this germinating in prayer, unless the seeds were there before it. " But," says one, " suppose the man has not a new heart, and were earnestly to seek one, would he have it ?" You must not make impossible suppositions ; so long as the man's Iieart is depraved and vile, he never will do such a thing. I can not, therefore, tell you what might happen, if he did what lie never will do. I can not answer your suppositions ; if you suppose yourself into a difficulty you must suppose yourself out of it. But the fact is, that no man ever did, or ever will 92 THE NEW HEAET. seek a new heart, or a right spirit, until, first of all, the grace of God begins with him. If there be a Christian here, who began with God, let him publish it to the world ; let us hear for once that there was a man who was beforehand with his Maker. But I have never met with such a case ; all Chris- tian people declare that God w^as first with them, and they will all sing, " 'Twas the same love that spread the feast, That sweetly forced me in, Else I had still refused to taste. And perished in my sua." It is a gracious change, freely given without any merit of the creature, without any desire or good-will coming before- hand. God doeth it of his own pleasure, not according to man's will. Once more ; it is a victorious effort of divine grace. When God first begins the work of changing the heart, he finds man totally averse to any such a thing. Man by nature kicks and struggles against God, he will not be saved. I must confess I never would have been saved, if I could have helped it. As long as -ever I could, I rebelled and revolted, and struggled against God. When he would have me pray, I would not pray : when he would have me listen to the sound of the min- istry, I would not. And when I heard, and the tear rolled down my cheek, I wiped it away and defied him to melt my heart. When my heart was a little touched, I tried to divert it with sinful pleasures. And when that would not do, I tried self-righteousness, and would not then have been saved, until I was hemmed in, and then he gave me the effectual blow of grace, and there w^as no resisting that irresistible eftbrt of his grace. It conquered my depraved will, and made me bow myself before the scepter of his grace. And so it is in every case. 3Ian revolts against his Maker and his Saviour ; but where God determines to save, save he will. God will have the sin- ner, if he designs to have him. God never was thwarted yet in any one of his purposes. Man does resist with all his might, but all the might of man, tremendous though it be for sin, is THE NEW HEART. 93 not equal to the majestic might of the Most High, when he rideth forth in the chariot of his salvation. He doth irresisti- bly save and victoriously conquer man's heart. And furthermore, this change is instantaneous. To sanctify a man is the work of the whole life ; but to give a man a new heart is the work of an instant. In one solitary second, swifter than the lightning flash, God can put a new heart into a man, and make him a new creature in Christ Jesus. You may be sitting where you are to-day, an enemy to God, with a wicked heart within, hard as a stone, and dead and cold ; but if the Lord wills it, the living spark shall drop into your soul, and in that moment you will begin to tremble — begin to feel ; you will confess your sin, and fly to Christ for mercy. Other parts of salvation are done gradually ; but regeneration is the in- stantaneous work of God's sovereign, efiectual, and irresistible grace. lU. Now we have in this subject a grand field of hope and encouragement to the very vilest of sinners. My hearers, let me very aflectionately address you, pouring out my heart be- fore you for a moment or two. There are some of you here present who are seeking after mercy; for many-a-day you have been in prayer in secret, till your very knees seemed sore with the oftenness of your intercession. Your cry to God has been, " Create me in a clean heart, and renew a right spirit within me." Let me comfort you by this reflection, that your prayer is already heard. You have a new heart and a right spirit : perhaps you will not be able to perceive the truth of this utterance for months to come, therefore continue in prayer till God shall open your eyes, so that you may see that the prayer is answered ; but rest assured it is answered already. If thou hatefit sin, that is not human nature ; if thou longest to be a friend of God, that is not human nature ; if thou de- sirest to be saved by Christ, it is not human nature, if thou desirest that without any stipulations of thine own, if thou art this day willing that Christ should take thee to be his own, to have and to hold, through life and through death, if thou art willing to live in his service, and if needful to die for his honor, that is not of human nature — that is the work of divme 04 THE NEW. HEABT. grace. There is something good in thee ah-eady ; the Lord hath begun a good wovk in thy heart, and he will carry it on even unto the end. All these feelings of thine are more than thou ever couldst have attained of thyself. God has helped thee up this divine ladder of grace, and as sure as he has brought thee up so many staves of it, he will carry thee to the very summit, till he grasps thee in the arms of his love in glory everlasting. There are others of you here, however, who have not pro- ceeded so far, but you are driven to despair. The devil has told you that you can not be saved ; you have been too guilty, too vile. Any other people in the world might find mercy, but not you, for you do not deserve to be saved. Hear me then, dear friend. Have I not tried to make it as plain as the sunbeam all through this service, that God never saves a man for the sake of what he is, and that he does not either begin or carry on the work in us because there is anything good in us. The greatest sinner is just as eligible for divine mercy as the very least of sinners. He who has been a ringleader in crime, I repeat, is just as eligible for God's sovereign grace, as he that has been a very paragon of morality. For God wants nothing of us. It is not as it is with the plowman ; he does not desire to plow all day upon the rocks, and send his horses upon the san-d ; he wants a fertile soil to begin with, but God does not. He will begin with the rocky soil, and he will pound that rocky heart of yours until it turns into the rich black mould of penitential grief, and then he will scatter the living seed in that mould, till it brings forth a hundred fold. But he wants nothing of you, to begin with. He can take you, a thief, a drunkard, a harlot, or whoever you may be ; he then can bring you on your knees, make you cry for mercy, and make you lead a holy life, and keep you unto the end. " Oh !'* says one, " I wish he would do that to me, then." Well, soul, if that be a true wish, he will. If thou desirest this day that thou shouldst be saved, there never was an unwilling God where there was a willing sinner. Sinner, if thou wiliest to be saved, God willeth not the death of any, but rather that they should come to repentance ; and thou art freely invited THE KEW HEAHT. 05 this morning to turn thine eye to the cross of Christ. Jesus Christ hns borne the sins of men, and carried tlieir sorrows ; thou art bidden to look there, and trust there, simply and im- plicitly. Then thou art saved. That very wish, if it be a sin- cere one, show^s that God lias just now been begetting thee again to a lively hope. If that sincere wish shall endure, it will be abundant evidence that the Lord hath brought thee to himself, and that thou art and shalt be his. And now reflect every one of you — you that are not con- verted — that we are all this morning in the hands of God. We deserve to be damned : if God damneth us, there is not a sin- gle word that will be heard against his doing it. We can not save ourselves ; we lie entirely in his hands ; like a moth that lies under the finger, he can crush us now, if he pleases, or he can let us go and save us. What reflections ought to cross our mind, if we believe that. Why, we ought to cast our- selves on our faces, as soon as we reach our homes, and cry, " Great God, save me, a sinner ! Save m6 ! I renounce all merit for I have none ; I deserve to be lost ; Lord, save me, foi\ Christ's sake;" and as the Lord my God liveth, before whom I stand, there is not one of you that shall do this who shall find my God shut the gates of mercy against you. Go and try him, sinner ; go and try him ! Fall upon thy knees in thy chamber this day, and try my Master. See if he will not forgive you. You think too harshly of him. He is a great deal kinder than you think he is. You think he is a hard mas- ter, but he is not. I thought he was severe and angry, and when I sought him, " Surely," I said, " if he accepteth all the world beside, he will reject me." But I know he took me to his bosom ; and when I thought he would spurn me for ever, he said, " I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgres- sions, and as a cloud thy sins," and I wondered how it was, and I do wonder now. But it shall be so in your case. Only try him, I beseech thee. The Lord help thee to try him, and to him shall be the glory, and to thee shall be happiness and bliss, for ever and ever. SERMON YI. THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. " Our Father which art in heaven." — Matt., vi. 9. I THINK there is room for very great doubt, whether our Saviour intended the prayer of which our text forms a part, to be used in the manner in which it is commonly employed among professing Christians. It is the custom of many per- sons to repeat it as their morning prayer, and they think that when they have repeated these sacred words, they have done enough. I believe that this prayer was never intended for universal use. Jesus Christ taught it not to all men, but to his disciples, and it is a prayer adapted only to those who are the possessors of grace, and are truly converted. In the lips of an ungodly man it is entirely out of place. Doth not one say, " Ye are of your father, the devil, for his works ye do ?" Why, then, should ye mock God by saying, " Our Father which art in heaven." For how can he be your Father? Have ye two Fathers ? And if he be a Father where is his honor ? Where is his love ? You neither honor nor love him and yet you presumptuously and blasphemously approach him, and say, " Our Father," when your heart is attached still to sin, and your life is opposed to his law, and you therefore prove yourself to be an heir of wrath, and not a child of grace. Oh ! I beseech you, leave off sacrilegiously employing these sacred words ; and until you can in sincerity and truth say, "Our Father which art in heaven," and in your lives seek to honor his holy name, do not offer him the language of the hypocrite, which is an abomination to him. I very much question also, whether this prayer was intended to be used by Christ's own disciples as a constant form of prayer. It seems to me that Christ gave it as a model, where* TUE FATnERHOOD OF GOD. 97 by we are to fashion all our prayers, and I think we may use it to edification, and with great sincerity and earnestness, at certain times and seasons. I have seen an architect form the model of a building he intends to erect of plaster or wood ; but I never had an idea that it was intended for me to live in. I have seen an artist trace on apiece of brown paper, perhaps, a design which he intended afterward to work out on more costly stuff; but I never imagined the design to be the thing itself. This prayer of Christ is a great chart, as it were ; but I can not cross the sea on a chart. It is a map ; but a man is not a traveler because he puts his fingers across the map. And so a man may use this form of prayer, and yet be a total stran- ger to the great design of Christ in teaching it to his disciples. I feel that I can not use this prayer to the omission of others. •Great as it is, it does not express all I desire to say to my Father which is in heaven. There are many sins which I must confess separately and distinctly ; and the various other petitions which this prayer contains, require, I feel, to be ex- panded, when I come before God in private ; and I must pour out my heart in the language which his Spirit gives me ; and more than that, I must trust in the Spirit to speak the unut- terable groanings of my spirit, when my lips can not actually express all the emotions of my heart. Let none despise this prayer ; ' it is matchless, and if we must have forms of prayer, let us have this first, foremost, and chief; but let none think that Christ would tie his disciples to the constant and only use of this. Let us rather draw near to the throne of the heav- enly grace with boldness, as children coming to a father, and let us tell our wants and our sorrows in the language which the Holy Spirit teacheth us. And now, coming to the text, there are several things wo shall have to notice here. And first, I shall dwell for a few minutes upon the double relationship mentioned. " Our Father which art in heaven." There is so7ishi2) — "Father;" there is brotherhood^ for it says, " Our Father;" and if he be the com- mon father of us, then we must be brothers ; for there are two relationships, sonship and brotherhood. In the next place, I shall utter a few words upon the spirit which is necessary to 5 98 THE PATHEUHOOD OP GOD. lielp US before we are able to utter this — " The spirit of adxyp- tion^'' whereby we can cry, " Our Father which art in heaven." And then, thirdly, I shall conclude with the double argmne^it of the text^ for it is really an argument upon which the rest of the prayer is based. " Our Father which art in heaven," is, as it were, a strong argument used before supplication itself is presented. I. First, THE DOUBLE RELATIONSHIP IMPLIED IN THE TEXT. We take the first one. Here is sonship — "Our Father which art in heaven." How are we to understand this, and in what sense are we the sons and daughters of God ? Some say that the Fatherhood of God is universal, and that every man, from the fact of his being created by God, is necessarily God's son, and that therefore every man has a right to aj)- proach the throne of God, and say, " Our Father which ait in heaven." To that I must demur. I believe that in this prayer we are to come before God, looking upon him not as our Father through creation, but as our Father through adop- tion and the new birth. I will very briefly state my reasons for this. I have never been able to see that creation necessarily im- plies fatherhood. I believe God has made many things that are not his children. Hath he not made the heavens and the earth, the sea and the fulness thereof? and are they his child- ren ? You say these are not rational and intelligent beings ; but he made the angels, who stand in an emhiently high and holy position, are they his children? "Unto which of the angels said he at any time, thou art my son?" I do not find, as a rule, that angels are called the children of God ; and I must demur to the idea that mere creation brings God neces- sarily into the relationship of a Father. Doth not the potter make vessels of clay ? But is the potter the fiither of the vase, or of the bottle ? No, beloved, it needs something be- yond cieation to constitute the relationship, and those who can say, " Our Father which art in heaven," are something more than God's creatures : they have been adopted into his family. He has taken them out of the old black family in which they were born ; he has washed them, and cleansed THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 09 them, and given them a new name and a new spirit, and made them "heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ ;" and all this of his own free, sovereign, unmerited, distinguishing grace. And having adopted them to be his children, he has, in the next place, regenerated them hy the Spirit of the limng God. He has " begotten them again unto a lively hope, by the res- urrection of Jesus Christ from the dead," and no man hath a right to claim God as his Father, unless he feeleth in his soul, and believetli, solemnly, through the faith of God's election, that he has been adopted into the one family of God which is in heaven and earth, and that he has been regenerated or born again. This relationship also involves love. If God be my Father^ he loves me. And oh, how he. loves* me! When God is a Husband he is the best of husbands. Widows, somehow or other, are always well cared for. When God is a Friend, he is the best of friends, and sticketh closer than a brother ; and when he is a Father he is the best of fathers. O fathers ! per- haps ye do not know how much ye love your children. When they are sick ye find it out, for ye stand by their couches and ye pity them, as their little frames are writhing in pain. Well, " like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him." Ye know how ye love your children too, when they grieve you by their sin ; anger arises, and you are rendy to chasten them, but no sooner is the tear in their eye, than your hand is heavy, and you feel that you had rather smite yourself than smite them ; and every time you smite them you seem to cry, " Oh that I should have thus to afflict my child for his sin ! Oh that I could sulTer in his stead !" And God, even our Father, " doth not afflict willingly." Is not that a sweet thing ? lie is, as it were, compelled to it ; vcn the Eternal arm is not willing to do it ; it is only his L^reat love and deep wisdom that brings down the blow. But If you want to know your love to your children, you will know t most if they die. David knew that he loved his son Absalom, ;nt he never knew how much he loved him till he heard that ho .id been slain, and that he had been buried by Joab. "Precious a the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." Ho knows 100 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. then how deep and pure is the love that death can never sever, and the terrors of eternity never can unbind. But parents, although ye love your children much, and ye know it, ye do •not know, and ye can not tell how deep is the unfathomable abyss of the love of God to you. Go out at midnight and consider the heavens, the work of God's lingers, the moon and the stars which he hath ordained ; and I am sure you will say, " What is man, that thou shouldest be mindful of him ?" But, more than all, you will wonder, not at your loving him, but that while he has all these treasures, he should set his heart upon so insigniticant a creature as man. And the sonship that God has given us is not a mere name ; there is all our Father's great heart given to us in the moment when he claims us as his sons. * But if this sonship involves the love of God to us, it in- volves, also, the duty of love to God. Oh ! heir of heaven, if thou art God's child, wilt thou not love thy Father ? What son is there that loveth not his father ? Is he not less than human if he loveth not his sire ? Let his name be blotted from the book of remembrance that loveth not the woman that brought him forth, and the father that begat him. And we, the chosen favorites of Heaven, adopted and regener- ated, shall not we love him? Shall we not say, "Whom have I in heaven but thee, and there is none upon earth that I desire in comparison with thee ? My Father, I will give thee my heart ; thou shalt be the guide of my youth ; thou dost love me, and the little heart that I have shall be all thine own for ever." Furthermore, if we say, " Our Father which art in heaven," we must recollect that our being sons involves the duty of obedience to God. When I say " My Father," it is not for me to rise up and go in rebellion against his wishes ; if he be a father, let me note his commands, and let me reverentially 'Obey ; if he hath said " Do this," let me do it, not because I r^^i^d him, but because I love him ; and if he forbids me to do ^4^'^Mttg, let me avoid it. There are some persons in the ^'^^^^^t^?ho^^kve not the spirit of adoption, and they can never ^^b¥-liii